


Sativa in Bloom (Or, How Gwaine Met Merlin And Everything Went Up In Smoke)

by leashy_bebes



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, American setting, Drug Dealing, M/M, Marijuana, Recreational Drug Use, Underage Drinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-25
Updated: 2012-05-25
Packaged: 2017-11-06 00:13:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 24,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/412600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leashy_bebes/pseuds/leashy_bebes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Merlin likes weed. Gwaine likes Merlin. Step 3 is obvious, right?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sativa in Bloom (Or, How Gwaine Met Merlin And Everything Went Up In Smoke)

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to N for advice and E to the beta. It is only down to their wisdom that this fic didn't end up being called 'Romancing The Stoner'. Badum-tsh.

English lit class last period is pretty much the highlight of the week. Miss Mora is laid back to the point of unaware, and they once spent a full double class discussing the significance of a certain word in a novel Gwaine can't remember anymore. Some of the kids like to mock her, but Gwaine thinks she's a blast. Gwaine has a free period the class before, and he usually uses it to smoke a quick joint at the far end of the track. He's sprawled on his back in the shade when he hears footsteps and waves his hand hastily to disperse the cloud of smoke he's just exhaled, pushing himself up on his elbows.

Ah, fuck. It's the new kid. Gwaine can't think of his name, but he knows even Arthur thinks he's a geek. And Arthur, no matter what he looks like, is a super-mega-geek. Gwaine can see this going one of two ways: either the kid won't have a clue what Gwaine's smoking and nothing will happen, or he'll know and be outraged enough to tell.

What Gwaine is not expecting is for the kid to push his black-framed glasses up his nose, straighten out his plaid shirt and ask, "You got any of that to sell?"

And that's how Gwaine meets Merlin Emrys. Science geek, straight-A student, dedicated pothead. They split the rest of Gwaine's joint and then on the way back to class, Gwaine detours to his car and fixes the kid up with a ten dollar bag. It's smaller than he'd normally supply , but Merlin's got a seriously cute smile, and he swears up and down he'll back for more when he gets paid.

"What do you do?" Gwaine asks.

"Do you know Gaius' Diner?"

"Yeah, yeah, I know it."

"I'm a server there," Merlin says. "Gaius is my uncle. Kinda."

Gwaine nods, slipping the little baggie into Merlin's palm and shutting the trunk as Merlin tucks it away.

"Hey, can I get your number?" Merlin asks, holding his phone out towards Gwaine.

"Sure," Gwaine says, tapping in his number. "If I don't see you at school, text me when you wanna pick up."

"Awesome, thanks, man."

It's not until later that Gwaine realizes. He gave Merlin his own number, his _actual_ number, not the beat up old Samsung he uses for dealing. He feels a little taken aback by his own error but shakes it off.

In the next couple of days Gwaine sees Merlin around in the corridors a few times. He feels unexpectedly disappointed to realize they don't have any classes together. He soon realizes why when he sees Merlin leaving at least three AP classes (math, English, chemistry), weighed down with books. Gwaine missed out on the advanced track mainly through lack of effort rather than lack of ability, and he's never really regretted it until now. Merlin is...interesting. He's glad when Merlin's call comes, around ten on Friday night. 

"Hi, this is Merlin. It's not too late to call, is it?"

"No, it's fine," Gwaine assures him. "What are you after, kid?"

"A score – no, hang on, two."

"Sure, now?" Gwaine can't help teasing. "Any advance on two?"

"No, two's cool. Where do you wanna meet?"

"Where are you?"

"Just leaving work," Merlin says. "Getting in my car – " there's the slamming of a door " – now."

"I can meet you somewhere on your way home, if you're in a rush."

"My mom works nights, so no, no rush."

"I'll come to you, then, if that's okay?"

Gwaine prefers home delivery where possible. Some people are dumb as shit when it comes to a casual, street-corner drop off.

"Are you sure?" Merlin asks.

"Yeah, it's cool."

"Awesome." Merlin rattles off his address.

"Oh, okay! You're only ten minutes from me," Gwaine tells him.

"You'll probably beat me there," Merlin says apologetically. "Just hang out outside for ten minutes."

"Sure, Merlin. See you soon."

Gwaine digs in the airtight box at the back of his wardrobe and pulls out a couple of bags. He frowns down at them, tops one up a little, then grabs his jacket and leaves the house. Decided already that he'll invite himself into Merlin's house long enough to roll a joint for the way home – even if they don't wind up smoking one together as he's hoping – Gwaine takes his bike over instead of the truck. It means he's only been waiting for five minutes when a small French car pulls onto the driveway of the small house Merlin shares with just his mom by the sound of it.

"Hi," Merlin says, sounding a little breathless as he jumps out of the car. "Oh, you rode here?"

"Yeah."

"Okay, lemme just – " Merlin rummages in the car for a moment and then hurrying past Gwaine to unlock the door. "Come in, come in. You want a drink or something?" Merlin turns away before Gwaine can answer, tugging his t-shirt away from his chest. "Ugh, two seconds, I reek like the diner."

"Eau de trucker," Gwaine teases.

"You're hilarious," Merlin tells him flatly before he bounds up the stairs two at a time, leaving Gwaine standing. Gwaine waits, examining the framed photos on the wall. Most are unmistakably Merlin at various ages, usually with a kind, tired looking woman who must be his mom. There's one of a man with Merlin's bright blue eyes.

"Oh, jeez," Merlin says as he returns, now wearing sweatpants and a fresh t-shirt. "Merlin: the even less awesome than usual years. Come through. Did you want that drink?"

"Uh. Yeah. Just a soda or whatever. Thanks."

Gwaine follows Merlin to the kitchen. Merlin switches on a handful of overhead spotlights and hands Gwaine a can of Dr. Pepper from the fridge. Gwaine tosses him the baggies, intrigued when Merlin opens one, takes a sniff, pinches a little between his thumb and forefinger. He gives Gwaine a smile.

"This is different from the last lot."

"Yeah, it is," Gwaine agrees. "Hey, you mind if I skin up for the way home?"

"Sure! Or – I mean you, can stay for one if you want?"

Gwaine grins at him. "Sounds good." He catches Merlin watching as he skins up from a baggie of his own, and smiles over at him. "We need to go outside, right?"

"Uh, right. My mom's cool, but she's not that cool."

Gwaine laughs and follows him into the backyard. The last of the heat is fading from the day. The flowers in Merlin's mom's garden smell amazing, and soon the sharp tang of burning weed cuts across it. Merlin nods Gwaine towards a wooden bench outside the back door and they sit.

Merlin smiles at him and says, "Hey, so I never really asked. Do you actually sell it, or are you doing me a massive favor here?"

"No, I sell it. I can always get it," Gwaine says, and then catches himself. "Oh, man, I used to hate guys that said that. It's always such bullshit. But if my main source is dry for whatever reason, I've got a couple of backups."

"Awesome. Suddenly being the new kid doesn't seem so bad."

Gwaine laughs. "How are you finding it?"

"Good. Bit weird. My old school was really small, so, I feel like I knew everyone there. Here, I feel like I'm gonna get lost on my way to French."

Gwaine laughs and waves away the last of the joint. "Call me if you ever get lost," he tells Merlin. "I'll track you down."

Merlin smiles at him like that's the sweetest thing in the world.

"Alright, kid. I better split. Enjoy the product and call me whenever you need."

Merlin shows him out and Gwaine jumps on his bike. He's home without noticing the turns he takes. His bedroom backs onto the yard and he goes outside for a smoke before turning in for an early night. Hell, yeah. Merlin is _interesting_.

*

Gwaine's relieved as hell to realize Merlin's a full-on pothead, not just a once in a while smoker. He rarely buys more than a twenty dollar bag at a time, and normally Gwaine would get annoyed with the repeated calls and firmly suggest Merlin stock up a little. It doesn't even enter his head to do so. He finds himself looking forward to those deals more than he looks forward to pretty much anything else.

Gwaine quickly learns that the only class they have in common is study hall on Tuesday and Thursday afternoons. He normally skips as many study halls as possible, the enforced silence not conducive to his particular learning style. He's much more inclined to turn up after he spots Merlin in the third row from the back while he's sneaking in late one day. The seat next to Merlin is mercifully, blessedly empty, and Gwaine slides into it. He likes the look of surprise on Merlin's face when he first takes the seat, but he likes the smile when Merlin realizes it's him even more.

 _Hi_ , Merlin mouths.

"Hey," Gwaine whispers back, sliding his Spanish reading out of his bag.

"You okay?" Merlin asks him when he's still staring blankly ten minutes later.

"Bored," Gwaine says, stretching the word out. 

Merlin grins and offers Gwaine one of his headphones. He's listening to some quiet, folky kind of thing that Gwaine likes instantly. He gives Merlin a thumbs up and turns back to his work. They end up passing most study halls that way, taking it in turns to provide the backing music. Gwaine likes picking the occasional funny thing, either stand-up routines or parody songs, to see if he can make Merlin laugh loud enough that other people notice. It probably says a lot that he puts so much thought into it, just for the reward of the way Merlin's eyes crinkle as he stuffs his fist up against his mouth to hush himself. 

Gwaine determinedly doesn't think about that though, or about the happy wriggle in his stomach when Merlin grabs his arm before he can leave one Thursday afternoon and says, "Hey, you got anything?"

"Sure. After school?"

"I was thinking Friday evening? I have this essay for tomorrow morning, so..."

"Your restraint is admirable," Gwaine tells him gravely. "See you Friday, then. About eight?"

"Perfect."

Merlin's mom works nights pretty much all the time, it seems like. She works at a local care home and Gwaine's become used to dropping deals at Merlin's late into the night. They almost always end up smoking at least one joint together, and Gwaine has to admit he looks forward to it. That Friday, he can't help noticing the chemistry textbooks in the kitchen. Screw the AP track, they look like _hardcore_ college level textbooks. Which, it turns out, is exactly what they are.

"I like to read ahead," Merlin tells him with a grin. "Nothing better than a bit of molecular chem when you've got a nice buzz on."

"You are seriously weird, kid," Gwaine tells him.

"You want a soda or anything?" Merlin offers.

They've already smoked, so Gwaine was about to take his leave, but...

"That'd be great, thanks," he says, then reaches over to tap the books with his forefinger. "So you're...some kinda genius, then?"

Merlin flushes a bit as he hands Gwaine a drink from the fridge.

"Hardly."

"Seriously, Merlin. You could be like, president or something if you weren't stoned all the time."

Merlin gives him an easy grin. "But then I couldn't be stoned all the time."

"You're like an evil mastermind in the making."

"Uh-huh. UN resolution number seventy three, sub-clause C. I have to get high to give the world a fighting chance."

Gwaine laughs and toasts Merlin with his soda. He's disappointed when his phone buzzes with a request before he's drunk half the can.

"Ugh," he complains after he reads the text.

"What's up?"

"I need to go see Valiant. I hate that asshole."

"Ha. Yeah. He's in my gym class."

Gwaine winces in sympathy. Valiant is brutal. "He's a tool, but his money's good."

"Oh, totally. Assholes are a risk of the lifestyle, right?"

"You know it."

"Oh, god, the guy I used to get it from at my old school was _so weird_."

"Uh-huh?"

"For real," Merlin says, nodding earnestly. "His name was Sigan. Wouldn't tell anyone his first name, and he just – oh my god." Merlin shudders. "I like you way better."

Gwaine laughs, squeezing Merlin's shoulder as he stands to leave. "Good to know. Have fun with the molecules."

Merlin's laughter follows him out of the house.

*

Gwaine wasn't bullshitting Merlin when he said he can almost always get hold of weed. His brother grows it but can't be assed with the sales side of things. When that source is dry or limited, he knows a couple of other guys. On the odd weekend when he doesn't have any to sell, he tends to just switch his dealing phone off and kick back, smoking from his own stash. 

It's on one such Saturday while Gwaine's enjoying having the house to himself (his mom and stepdad, Tony, out at some lunch thing that'll likely occupy them all day) that his other phone rings. He feels a familiar happy wriggle in his stomach at the sight of Merlin's name on the screen.

It dissipates when he has to say, "Sorry, man, got nothing but my own stash."

"Ah, shit. Okay. Call me when you re-up?"

"Sure. Probably not til next week, though," Gwaine says, and then on impulse, "Hey, Merlin?"

"Yeah?"

"You wanna hang out or something, smoke a little?"

Merlin sounds surprised. "Oh, uh. Sure. That'd be cool. You need me to bring anything?"

"Just yourself," Gwaine says, and then wants to kick himself. He's sure he could sound creepier if he really, really tried.

In the end, Merlin turns up with fresh subs and a plate of chocolate brownies.

"Stopped by work," he says. "I didn't know what you liked so I got chicken with basically everything. You can pick out what you don't like, right?"

"Oh, hey, thanks. You didn't have to do that."

"It's okay."

The weather's nice enough that they eat out in the yard, leaning up against the warm bricks. Merlin talks enthusiastically between bites of his sandwich, about everything from the neighborhood, to the school football game he went to last night, to this cool song he heard on the radio on the way over. That only increases after they smoke a couple of joints.

Merlin is seriously fucking adorable when he's stoned. He's pretty prone to the giggles, interspersed with fits of lethargy that make him look like he's made of liquid or rubber bands, the way his lanky body unfolds to fill all available space. It's cute, Gwaine has no trouble admitting that. They spend most of the day that way, making more of a dent in Gwaine's stash than he'd intended to. He doesn't resent it at all though, can't deny he gets something of a kick from the way Merlin's cheeks hollow when he inhales.

When it starts getting cooler they head inside and Gwaine grabs his laptop, letting Merlin root through his DVDs. ("Oh my god," Merlin says at one point, "do you just own every stoner film ever made?") The movie Merlin settles on is one Gwaine's seen a bunch of times. That's probably lucky, seeing as he barely notices it this time around.

He's focused on Merlin in that lazy-yet-intense way he gets when he's stoned, totally aware of him without consciously cataloguing every little detail. It feels good, hanging out with Merlin, the warmth of him close on the little couch. When the movie ends, Merlin stretches and yawns.

"I better go," he says, glancing at the darkening sky outside the window.

"Sure, okay. You want me to roll one for the road?"

Merlin looks tempted but says, "Better not. I drove here."

"Alright. Take enough for a couple of joints," Gwaine offers. 

"Sure?"

"Yeah, man, help yourself."

"Thank you," Merlin says, grinning at Gwaine and helping himself to a few big pinches of the ground up bud. "This has been fun," he adds. "You'll have to stay for a proper smoke next time I pick up, yeah? Payback."

And well, Gwaine has no interest in a payback, but he sure as hell _does_ have an interest in hanging out with Merlin more, so he just says, "Cool."

After Merlin's gone, Gwaine has to check himself. Yeah, Merlin is cute, and funny, and easy to get along with, but Gwaine doesn't even know if Merlin swings his way. Gut instinct says yes, or did at first, but Gwaine's not so sure now. Merlin spends most of his time at school with a girl Gwaine sort of knows called Freya. They seem to share a lot of classes, so it could just be that. But Gwaine's seen them talking a few times, her smiling up at him, while he looks right into her small, pretty face.

It should be no big deal to take a chance and find out. Gwaine isn't exactly known for being shy. What does he have to lose, right? If he was ever, in a million years, going to talk to someone about this, he'd say he would miss Merlin's custom if it all went to hell. That's bullshit though, and he knows it. (Sometimes he wishes weed didn't come with such a large side-order of introspection.) He could make up the money elsewhere easy. What he would miss would be the deals themselves, the opportunity they give him to drink up Merlin's company.

He throws his arm over his face and groans, forced to admit he has a massive fucking visible-from-the-moon crush. It happened gradually and all at once. Because Merlin is hot as hell if you like the slender, geeky, stoner type (which Gwaine totally does) so there's that. But there's other stuff, too. Gwaine's even dropped by the diner a few times on the off-chance Merlin will be working. The times he has been, he always gives Gwaine a free slice of pie. Merlin reads when he's not bussing tables, all school books from what Gwaine can see. He's so damn focused, it's adorable. He frowns down at the books like they've done him a personal affront. When he rolls a joint, his hands are quick and clever and sometimes Gwaine feels like there are secrets dancing in Merlin's eyes.

It would have been easier if it had stayed at Merlin being hot. It's beyond that now, way beyond. It is, no other real word for it, a full-blown fucking crush on the guy, complete with trouble forming sentences and butterflies in his stomach, the whole clichéd grossness of it all. And that makes it harder. Being suddenly aware that he knows all Merlin's favorite songs because of the way he reacts when they come on the radio changes everything. It feels delicate now, this thing in Gwaine's chest. It's not proud, pushy want anymore, it's something bigger and softer, something that makes Gwaine utterly useless.

In short, Gwaine is totally screwed. Merlin is the cutest thing he's seen in ages. And he smokes a _shitload_ of weed. Gwaine's smitten. Totally useless over a skinny science nerd with big ears and the bluest eyes Gwaine's ever seen. He finds himself waiting for Merlin's calls, trying to work out how long a bag will last him, offering him freebies and top-ups and deals on credit when Merlin's waiting to get paid. 

Gwaine feels like he should hate himself for being such an ass, but he can't even do that, some part of him insisting that it's amazing that _every single person_ in the world doesn't feel the same way about Merlin.

"Got it so bad, man," he announces to the empty room. "So, so bad."

There is not enough pot in the _world_.

*

One Thursday in study hall, Merlin unobtrusively slides a folded square of paper over to Gwaine. Gwaine snags it between his fingertips and unfolds it under cover of the lab bench. Merlin has neat, spiky handwriting, and he's printed across the top of the sheet of paper:

_Are you coming to Arthur's pool party Friday? I know you're invited cos I asked him._

_Maybe_ , Gwaine scribbles back. _Not sure_. Then, with a thoughtful glance at where Merlin is waiting for his reply, adds, _u asked? y?_

Merlin looks at the note for a long moment when Gwaine passes it back. He smiles, then shakes his head and starts writing. _Cos I did. You're fun. Won't be a party unless you're there?_ He's drawn a smiley face Gwaine can only describe as pleading under his note and Gwaine grins, writes back, _ok. u need a ride?_

 _Come to mine first so we can party our way_ , is Merlin's response. _Arthur seems like he's wound a little tight_.

Gwaine's only reply to that is to underline 'a little' about a dozen times and surround it with question marks. Merlin hides his laughter behind one hand as he crumples the note and slides it into his bag. Gwaine can't help sneaking glances at Merlin the rest of the period. He looks ridiculously pleased with himself that he succeeded in convincing Gwaine. Several times, Gwaine turns back to his chem problems and resolves not to look at Merlin. That's easier said than done though, and his eyes keep straying back, catching Merlin smiling at him more often than not.

"See you Friday," Merlin murmurs on the way out of the class. "My mom's leaving around 5."

"Cool. See you tomorrow, Merlin."

That Friday Gwaine can't help himself, is at Merlin's by five thirty. He's like a goddamned puppy, all _hey Merlin, hi, hi, Merlin hi, look at me!_ He doesn't know whether he's amused or disgusted at himself. Neither one is enough to make driving around for a while first sound more appealing than seeing Merlin _right the hell now_ , so he parks up and heads up the path to the house.

Merlin answers the door almost immediately, greeting Gwaine with a smile. " Oh hey, you're early! Let me just change my shirt. Skin up," Merlin calls as he jogs upstairs.

Gwaine goes through to the kitchen and by the time Merlin's back in a dark blue shirt that does amazing things for his eyes, Gwaine's rolled a heavy joint.

"Sweet," Merlin says, tossing him a lighter and waving him towards the back door.

"We should do a bong or something too," Gwaine suggests. "Could be a long party."

"I don't have one," Merlin says regretfully. "Will won the coin toss on ours when I moved."

Gwaine can't resist showing off a little. "Got any apples? Tin foil?"

"Apples? What – um, yeah."

Gwaine can feel Merlin's eyes on him as he hollows out the apple with a small knife. "Got a biro?"

Merlin hands it to him and Gwaine takes it apart, pushes it into the hollowed apple at a careful angle. He packs the pipe, tears off a square of foil to make a screen and presents it to Merlin. "Ta-da. Apple pipe."

"That," Merlin says reverently, "is the coolest thing I have _ever_ seen. You must teach me your ways, wise one."

"Yeah, okay, young Jedi," Gwaine jokes, although he can't help feeling a little flattered (and a little something else too at the idea of teaching Merlin other things). "Take a hit."

"I feel so Earth-conscious, or something," Merlin says afterwards.

Gwaine laughs and takes his turn, hardly able to stop smiling at Merlin long enough to do so. It should only be maybe a twenty minute walk to Arthur's, but it takes them closer to forty-five minutes with the way Merlin's meandering, pausing often to emphasize some point or other. By the time they get to Arthur's the party is obviously in full swing if the music and laughter coming from the garden is anything to go by. The gate is open and Gwaine lets Merlin lead the way. 

Gwaine's always had kind of a weird relationship with Arthur. They're not quite friends, and they're combative without actually disliking each other that much. As such, it's hardly a surprise when Arthur tries to shove him in the pool as soon as he sets foot in the yard. Gwaine fights back because damn it, he has two rolled joints in his pocket to surprise Merlin with on the way home. Once Gwaine's saved himself from Arthur's clutches, Merlin's long gone, into the crowd of people who are gathered there.

Arthur's pool is awesome, big and heated, hot enough that it almost feels like a bath when Gwaine finally jumps in of his own free will, clothes (and joints) safely stashed. As ever, Arthur's totally unsupervised apart from the utterly disinterested eye of his older sister, and things get loud quickly. Gwaine catches up with a few people – Leon from the cross-country squad, Gwen who is sweet but annoyingly immune to his charms, his lab partner Percy. Elena won't be there until later, if at all, and Gwaine can't help his attention wandering back to Merlin. 

Just like at school, he talks to Freya a lot, but to a ton of other people too. It's the first time Gwaine really realizes how well-liked Merlin is. Not that that comes as a shock, of course, far from it. While Gwaine's treading water in the pool, he sees Merlin laugh at something Arthur says and Gwaine can't help but stare at the long line of his throat when he tips his head back, the way his eyes crinkle and his dimples go deep.

 _Crap_ , Gwaine has it bad. He's almost relieved when Elyan launches himself in Gwaine's direction, dunking him thoroughly. Gwaine comes up spluttering, wipes water out of his eyes, and when he looks over to where Merlin was standing, he's gone.

Things start to quiet down around ten, the kids with stricter curfews heading off. Gwaine heaves himself out of the pool and grabs one of the many towels lying around. He tracks down his clothes and changes out of his trunks before, joints tucked firmly in his pocket, he goes looking for Merlin.

He finds him sitting by the pool, looking over at where Percy and Leon are involved in an intense debate on how late is too late to order pizza. Leon's drunk, but Gwaine doesn't know what Percy's excuse is. Clearly the answer is that it's never too late. Gwaine touches Merlin's shoulder and he flails around to look at Gwaine.

"Hey. Sorry, didn't mean to make you jump."

"S'okay," Merlin says, twisting around to look at Gwaine properly. "I was starting to wonder if you'd left."

"Merlin! Of course not."

"Yeah, I thought probably not," Merlin admits. "But I lost you for a while, there."

Merlin sounds pleasingly put-out about that, and Gwaine asks, "You wanna go for a walk?"

"Huh? Oh, sure!" Merlin holds out a hand and lets Gwaine pull him to his feet. Gwaine thinks his daily quota for resisting temptation was pretty much tapped out by the effort it took not to jump Merlin at the first sight of him in swimming trunks, so he feels justified in slinging his arm around Merlin's back.

"See why I didn't want that asshole Pendragon to push me in the pool?" Gwaine asks, pulling a neatly rolled joint from one pocket, and a lighter from the other once they're away from the others.

"He's not that bad," Merlin protests. "Kinda nice, actually."

Gwaine's heart sinks. Because Arthur isn't just _kinda nice_ , he's a fucking golden boy, literally. He has that whole blond hair, pretty blue eyes thing going on. Fuck, Gwaine's willing to bet that is exactly Merlin's type. And ah, shit, why does he even care? He's trying to only think of Merlin as a customer and a smoking buddy. If he wants to be mooning over Arthur fucking Pendragon, then it has nothing to do with Gwaine. He comforts himself with the fact that Merlin followed him immediately, looking relieved to slip away for some time alone with Gwaine. Or, he thinks, for some time with a joint. He feels an instant later like that was kind of an uncharitable thought, and he's not sure whether he's being unfair to himself or to Merlin. 

Merlin drags a hand through his wet hair and says, "Are you sure this is okay? I mean, the others..."

"It's cool, Arthur's yard is huge," Gwaine says. "No one will even notice."

Sure enough, they come upon a garden, hidden from the rest by a high hedge with a neatly maintained archway cut into it.

"How rich _is_ this dude?" Merlin mutters quietly and Gwaine laughs, tucking the joint into the corner of his mouth and sitting in the cool grass before sparking it. Merlin joins him on the ground. He's dressed in his jeans and t-shirt again, but his hair is still curling wetly against back of his neck.

"Man, I miss swimming," Merlin says, after his first toke. "I was on the team at my old school."

"You should try out," Gwaine suggests. "You're good."

Truthfully, he's only really seen Merlin swimming to dodge a dunking, but he's fast, cuts through the water like a blade. 

"Nah, I need to focus on academics."

"Dude, your GPA is like...unassailable. I'm sure you could spare a little time."

Merlin shrugs, looking a little uncomfortable. Gwaine hands the joint back to Merlin and watches as he takes a drag. On the exhale, he says, "College, you know."

That seems to be the only explanation that's forthcoming, so Gwaine lets it go.

"Arthur said I can swim here whenever," Merlin says, brightening. "So that's cool."

"Yeah," Gwaine says, and he feels like he's inhaled the cherry, ash coating the inside of his mouth. "Cool."

Before Merlin can pick up on his tone, they hear footsteps and then a voice – none other than Arthur's voice, in fact – calls out, "Found 'em. They're getting high like Elyan said."

"Dude, shut up," Merlin hisses at Arthur as he approaches them. Gwaine thinks it's kind of cute, how nervous he gets sometimes.

Elena follows Arthur through and says, "Oh, cool. Hey, Gwaine."

"Hey, sweetheart," Gwaine says, grinning at her. "You and Merlin know each other, right?"

"A little, yeah," Merlin says.

"You're in my math class, right?" Elena asks. "You're really smart."

Gwaine holds his breath. Even though they don't see each other as constantly as they used to, they still speak on the phone or online regularly, and he's sure Elena hasn't failed to realize how often he talks about Merlin these days. Sure enough, she sends Gwaine a painfully obvious enquiring look. Luckily, Merlin is talking to Arthur at the time, and sufficiently distracted. Gwaine pleads her with his eyes and god bless her, Elena's only response is to grin and waggle her eyebrows. It's pretty much the polar opposite of subtle, but Gwaine doesn't complain. For Elena, that was positively restrained.

Neatly proving Gwaine's point, Elena clicks her fingers at him and gestures for the joint.

"Charming," Gwaine tuts. "Isn't she charming, Merlin?"

Elena sticks her tongue out at Gwaine and Gwaine laughs, finding the joint he rolled for the way home and giving it to her. In all honesty, he misses her like hell, and gives her an impulsive hug.

"Miss you, girl."

"Same," she says, rubbing his back with the hand that isn't holding onto the joint. "I miss doing your hair."

Gwaine groans and gently pushes her away. Elena grins impishly around the fresh joint as she lights up.

"You miss what now?" Arthur asks, and actually deigns to take a couple of hits when Elena waves the joint in his direction.

"What?" Gwaine asks. "You think I wore those barrettes through middle school out of choice?"

There's a silence, and Merlin looks amused, glancing from Elena's mischievous expression to Gwaine's face.

"You did think that," Gwaine groans. "Awesome."

"Barrettes?" Merlin asks.

Elena pats her tangle of blonde hair and says, "All the pretty stuff my dad got me got lost in my hair. G's was much easier, wasn't it?"

"Oh, man," Arthur says. "I haven't thought about that in years. G'n'E."

"Huh?" Merlin asks, as he accepts the end of the joint from Arthur with a distracted, "Oh, thanks."

"G'n'E, that's what we used to call them when we were kids. They were inseparable."

"Mostly you called us _those weird kids_ ," Gwaine points out, and it doesn't come out as joking as he intended. He tells himself that maybe that belt of vodka out of Leon's old-man-hip-flask might not have been the best idea.

"Yeah, and mostly you called me _that rich dumbass_ ," Arthur says, and Gwaine bites his tongue. Merlin nudges Gwaine to get his attention and hands the joint back to him. The weird atmosphere passes and when the second joint is dead, the four of them make their way back to the house. 

"That was for us on the way home," Gwaine bitches quietly to Merlin, as Arthur and Elena lead the way, giggling like the part-time stoners they are. 

Merlin laughs and says, "I can make my own way home, it's okay if you want to hang out with Elena."

"Huh? Nah. It's fine. My truck's at your place anyway."

"D'you wanna split, then? It's getting kinda cold," Merlin says.

"Sure, let me just say bye to Elena."

Merlin looks over at Elena over Gwaine's shoulder and asks, "You sure?"

"Yeah, it's fine. I think she's gonna stay and drool over Elyan a while longer."

"Okay," Merlin says slowly. "Sure, then. Ready when you are."

The walk back to Merlin's seems to take a fraction of the time it took going the other way, and Gwaine suddenly feels everything inside him crumble at the idea of the front door closing between them. Merlin seems to have no such qualms, digging in his pocket for his door keys.

"Well, I'll – see ya, Merlin."

"You not coming in for a smoke?" Merlin asks, sounding surprised. 

"Oh – sure, if that's okay."

"Duh. C'mon."

Gwaine follows him into the house. Merlin's chatting even more than usual about the party, and the weather, and school, and the lack of good soda in the fridge. Even so, it doesn't sound exactly casual when he says, "So, I never realized about you and Elena."

"What about us?"

"That you're like. Together, or whatever."

Gwaine almost tears the spliff he's rolling right in two. "No, Merlin, she's – a sister, kind of."

"She is?"

"Yeah. She was always real clumsy, kinda awkward when we were kids. I used to stand up for her. Anyway," Gwaine says, looking at Merlin. "I like guys, Merlin."

Merlin's hands freeze momentarily in the act of making himself a cup of tea. "You – you do?"

Gwaine doesn't know whether to laugh or cry. Apparently his tendency to stare at Merlin's ass isn't as blatant as he'd feared.

"Yeah, dude. That was the whole point. Mess with Elena and you get beat up by this angry little queer kid."

"I can't imagine you angry," Merlin tells him after a moment.

Gwaine shrugs and then, without realizing he was even going to say anything, admits, "It was around the time my dad was dying."

"Oh. Shit, dude, I didn't know. I'm sorry. So that guy you were yelling at..."

Gwaine feels really fucking awkward, remembering the argument with Tony a couple of weeks ago, when Merlin had been waiting outside. "Fuck, I didn't realize you heard that." He remembers Tony saying _you're a goddamn waste of space_ , and his own smart ass reply. "You, ah – your dad. Is he – "

"No," Merlin says. "Well, I don't know. Maybe. He left before I was born."

"Oh, man."

"Getting kind of heavy, right?"

"Right," Gwaine agrees, meeting Merlin's small smile with one of his own. "I'm sorry, dude. That must suck."

Merlin shrugs. "Probably isn't as bad never having one as it is to have one and lose him."

"I don't know about that," Gwaine says.

Merlin's silent for a moment, moving to give Gwaine shelter from the wind when he gestures to him. "Your dad," Merlin says, sounding curious. "What was he like?"

"He was cool," Gwaine says. "He worked these crazy hours, but it seemed like he was always around, you know? We used to do a lot of stuff together, him and Gareth – that's my brother – and me."

"Sounds nice," Merlin says, sounding a bit wistful. He clears his throat and adds, "me too, For the record. On the liking guys thing."

Gwaine very carefully seals and twists the joint before he lets himself wonder. Was that an invitation? Or is he just an asshole for thinking that was an invitation, or anything other than a statement of fact? The moment's gone as Merlin splashes milk into his tea and asks, "you done? Wanna head outside?"

"Sure," Gwaine says, following him.

He has seriously _got_ to get a hold of himself.

*

School's...you know. It's school. It sucks by definition. The only reason Gwaine makes a conscious effort not to get kicked out is because a) college is the fucking promised land, and b) most of his customers are here. Well. And now Merlin too. He's so goddamn smart he makes Gwaine – who's not an idiot no matter what his asshole step-dad thinks – feel really dumb.

One night, when Gwaine's making a drop at Merlin's house, Merlin looks ragged and anxious, his eyes flickering regularly to the stack of books waiting for him on the kitchen table. Gwaine can't help pressing it, asking Merlin why he never gives himself a break.

Merlin ums and ahs a little at first, and then says, "My mom doesn't exactly have a ton of money, so if I don't keep my GPA up, I'm screwed for college pretty much."

Gwaine feels almost guilty when he thinks of the college fund his dad set up when he was just a baby. It's tied into all sorts of restrictions and conditions that mean it can only be used, by Gwaine, for tuition, or a few other 'sensible investments'. Gwaine knows his mom bitches about how his dad left them broke, but he must have had some kind of financial brain in his head. With that, and the money he's saved from dealing, Gwaine's looking pretty sweet for college.

"Fuck it, dude," Merlin says, his fingers tapping the pocket of his cargoes where he stashed the baggie Gwaine had handed him. "Let's go bowling."

Gwaine feels that little kick in his chest that he gets when Merlin does that, references something that Gwaine loves too. It makes him feel warm, like just having a little thing in common with Merlin is the same as getting a warm hug on a cold day.

The next time Merlin calls Gwaine wanting to pick up, Gwaine arrives at Merlin's with a bag of weed and a copy of _The Big Lebowski_. It feels presumptuous, but Merlin just laughs and says, "Oh, man, cool!"

They get high and watch the film together, drowning out the dialogue with their own overblown renditions of the script. During the tripping scene, Gwaine looks over at Merlin. He's laughing, his hand hovering above the popcorn bowl, and Gwaine thinks, clear as anything, _I'm going to kiss that boy one day_. 

He thinks about it that night, after he's biked home from Merlin's through empty streets and gone straight to bed. Kissing Merlin... Hell, he thinks about kissing Merlin a lot of the time lately, anyway. Gwaine's fooled around before, had sex a handful of times, but not with anyone who makes him feel like Merlin does. Not with anyone he's liked in more than a fleeting kind of way. He likes Merlin so much he feels like he could burst from it, sometimes. 

He guesses that's why he's holding back. He doesn't just want to get stoned and make out with Merlin. Or actually, that's something he really, really wants. Stoned make-outs with Merlin is up in the top three of Gwaine's goals for life, probably has been from the first second he saw Merlin's ridiculously gorgeous lips close around the end of a joint. But he wants it to be bigger than that, too. He wants to know everything about Merlin, wants to learn every expression he has and what they all mean. 

Gwaine shoves his hand into his boxers and brings himself off, thinking about how Merlin had looked tonight, the way he'd sucked salt and butter off his fingers, the warm pressure of his arm against Merlin's as they settled into the small bench outside Merlin's back door to smoke another joint before Gwaine left. Merlin makes Gwaine feel giddy and stupid, and it's a little like this, like the vague confusion after an orgasm.

*

After study hall on Thursday a few weeks later, Merlin waits while Gwaine packs up his stuff and they leave the room together.

"Hey," Merlin says, grinning. "You around at the weekend? My mom's out of town and I just finished a bitch of a history assignment. I need to get drastically altered."

Gwaine laughs, tells him, "Saturday afternoon cool? I've got this thing in the morning."

"Oh? What kinda thing?" Merlin asks curiously.

"Uh. Cross-country running."

"You run? Can I come watch? I'll wait at the finish line with a foil blanket and everything."

"Sure, Merlin," Gwaine says, pretty sure he's joking. They part in the car lot, Merlin heading for the diner and Gwaine switching on his dealing phone and waiting for a call. Around nine that night, right around the time Merlin gets off work (and ugh, god, he kinda hates himself for even knowing that) he receives a text to his regular phone.

_You need a ride to the big race Saturday morning?_

Gwaine's sitting in the parking lot of a 7-11, waiting for this spacey sophomore kid called Mordred to arrive, and he can't quite believe what he's reading.

_u serious?_

_Sure, we can hang out after :)_

Gwaine's still trying to work out how to reply to that when his phone beeps again.

_I mean, unless you have a date with an ice bath?_

Gwaine grins at the screen. _Date with a smoke_ , he types. _Sure, come by abt 10.30, race starts @ 11_

He puts the phone down, feeling his smile stretch his face. Whatever does or doesn't happen at some point in the future, he can't deny the fact that Merlin's the one to suggest they hang out gives him a ridiculously warm glow.

*

When Merlin rings the doorbell the next morning, Gwaine is part way through rolling a joint on the kitchen table. Merlin dissolves into laughter instantly.

"Oh my god, are you serious? You even _run_ stoned?"

"Laugh it up. Like you're any better."

"Whatever. Are you smoking that now?"

Gwaine glances at the clock. Merlin came by a little earlier than he was expecting, but it's still pretty close to race time. School will be crowded by the time they get there. 

"Yeah. C'mon," he says, waving Merlin out the back door. Outside, Gwaine sparks the joint and tells Merlin, "I'm so glad I don't have to pretend not to be a total fiend around you."

Merlin laughs, and that feels kind of awesome. Gwaine _loves_ making him laugh.

"What did you want, by the way?"

"An eighth," Merlin says. 

"Sure." Gwaine takes another toke and hands the joint to Merlin. "Here. Finish this for me."

He's only taken his routine three big tokes, and Merlin looks a little surprised.

"It's only performance enhancing within very narrow parameters," Gwaine informs him and Merlin laughs, his cheeks hollowing as he takes a drag. 

"I'll go weigh up your bag," Gwaine says, and turns away before he can give in to temptation and find out what Merlin's mouth tastes like the second after he inhales from exactly where Gwaine's lips have just been.

Last week, Elena saw one of the bags he'd prepped for Merlin and nearly died laughing. Her exact wording had been something like, 'You probably need some actual words to go with your seduction via illicit substances, you know.' Gwaine had blustered and denied he was trying to seduce anyone, thank you so very much, but really she might have a point with the way he carefully measures out Merlin's quarter of an ounce and then adds an extra bud and a generous pinch of loose leaves. No. It's not seduction. It's...insurance. Against Merlin getting his gear somewhere else. Which would suck financially long before Gwaine gave a crap about not seeing Merlin on a regular basis. That's what he tells himself, and it's what he told Elena too. (She just laughed and patted his hand and said _okay, honey_ , in a frankly _way too condescending_ tone.)

Merlin's in the kitchen by the time Gwaine gets back. He's tapped out the joint and is currently sliding what remains of it into an empty bag. When he's done, Gwaine tosses him the baggie of weed and watches as Merlin tucks both away. He leans past Merlin to grab a bottle of water from the fridge and says, "Alright. Lead on, driver."

*

The weather's just right, and Gwaine enjoys the race a hell of a lot. It's a familiar route, doubling back on itself through the wooded paths behind the school. He keeps pace with Leon for a long time, the way they usually do. There's no effort at conversation, of course, and Gwaine finds himself thinking of Merlin telling him, _see you at the finish line, Speedy Gonzales_ , stretching the words to match his footfalls. Leon breaks early, at the same time as one of the JV kids streaks past them. 

Gwaine gives it another five minutes before he makes his own move, kicking up the pace when he's still maybe five minutes from the school field. There's mud splashed on his calves by the time he passes Leon, passes the JV kid, and comes in second behind Edwin. He can live with that, easy. No one beats Edwin. 

Merlin actually _is_ waiting at the finish line, or pretty damn close to it anyway. He doesn't have a foil blanket, but he does whoop and clap as Gwaine crosses the line. It's basically the best feeling _ever_. Gwaine checks in with the coach, exchanges a sweaty slap on the back with Leon, and then turns to find Merlin. 

He's right there in the thinning crowd, beaming at Gwaine. "Wow," he says, as Gwaine approaches. "You're really good."

"I really stink," Gwaine says, backing up a step and pulling his sweaty singlet away from his chest. "Let me go grab a shower and then we can hang out if you still wanna?"

"Sure, okay."

And it's – Gwaine showers really fast because he finds he kinda loves the idea that Merlin is waiting for him. The football players all have their groupies and/or girlfriends who hang around for them to be done, but not so much the track team. Not that Merlin is his girlfriend. Or even, to be less of a jackass about it, his boyfriend. Gwaine would maybe like that, but that's not even the point. Gwaine isn't sure what the point _is_ , aside from that Merlin is waiting for him, and that is awesome. 

He finishes up in the shower and heads for the parking lot. Merlin is leaning against Gwaine's truck – again, awesome, and again, Gwaine's not sure why.

"What do you wanna do?" Merlin asks, cheerful as ever.

"Honestly? I wanna go sit down somewhere I can smoke a shitload of weed and not move til I can trust my legs."

"Okay, I know the perfect place," Merlin says.

"Alright. Wherever you like." 

Gwaine lazes in the passenger seat and settles into the ache of a long run, not paying much attention to the passing streets. Merlin has a radio but no CD player in his beat-up little car, and he flicks through a few stations before settling on something playing Merlin's preferred style of music (Gwaine always thinks of it as wistful indie). It's not really his thing, but Merlin sort of hums along and taps the steering wheel in time. It's cute.

When Merlin pulls to a stop, it's in a small picnic area, his wheels crunching on the gravel. Gwaine looks around in consternation. But then, Merlin didn't grow up around here.

"Cool, right?" Merlin asks. "I found this spot a couple weeks back. Literally no one comes here."

"Merlin – yeah, that's because there's this really gross story about this girl who killed herself here."

" _What_?"

"Don't worry, I'm pretty sure it's crap. Local legend, you know."

"Oh. Well, it's too nice a spot to waste on some stupid ghost story."

"I agree," Gwaine tells him.

"I went by work for snacks," Merlin says, opening his hopelessly geeky satchel bag. "I thought you might like to eat healthy after a race so I got you an all-salad sub."

"Oh. Uh – "

"Kidding. I got you hot dog and onion, extra mustard."

"Awesome." Gwaine digs in enthusiastically.

"You really are good," Merlin says as he unwraps his own ham and cheese sub. "At the running. Are you going for an athletics scholarship?"

"Nah, I should scrape by on my grades," Gwaine says, wiping his mouth on one of the paper napkins Merlin bought from the diner.

"Oh, god, I didn't mean – "

"Merlin. I'm kidding."

Merlin glares at him. "Jerk. Here, I made you this," he says, pushing a joint and a lighter over the table to Gwaine. "Although right now, I'm not sure if you deserve it or not."

Gwaine turns full on puppy eyes towards Merlin, who groans. "Stop it, stop it."

The sun's half-hearted this time of year, but Merlin still looks good in it, the cool light shining off his hair and making his eyes look bluer than ever. Gwaine waits until Merlin's finished eating before he sparks up, and they pass the joint back and forth. Merlin is so damn easy to talk to, and they spend most of the afternoon there.

Gwaine wants... Hell, he wants a _lot_ of things, but for now, nursing a faint ache from the race and listening to the birds sing, he will settle for watching Merlin smile.

*

A couple of weeks later, Gwaine gets in from cutting deals and there's a shitty atmosphere in the house immediately. His mom's car isn't there, but his step-dad's is. Tony's not _actually_ a bad guy. They're not close, though, and for the most part they just steer clear of each other. Unless he's drunk. Then he is a fucking _asshole_. And Gwaine...well, he wouldn't be himself if he had learned how to resist the bait.

Their argument is brief but intense, and not even fifteen minutes after he got home, Gwaine slams out of the house, only to realize he's left his _fucking_ car keys. And his stash, and his wallet and every-fucking-thing else. Fuck it. His iPod is in his jacket pocket, and he can find a payphone to call Elena when he's calmed down. He jams the buds into his ears, cranks the volume, and starts walking, fast but aimless. He finds himself outside the diner where Merlin works without even realizing it. He can see Merlin behind the counter, engrossed in a book until he looks up in response to a call from a customer. He smiles and Gwaine's mind is made up. 

He walks inside and Merlin looks up from pouring coffee, a bright grin appearing on his face when he sees Gwaine.

"Hey you," he says, hurrying over. "What's – are you alright?"

"I, uh. I forgot my wallet," Gwaine admits, feeling like an idiot.

"That's okay." Merlin looks concerned, reaching for Gwaine with one hand before changing his mind and pointing him towards a booth.

Gwaine sits down and Merlin leans his hip against the table, looking at Gwaine critically.

"What's up?"

"Nothing much. Tony's drunk."

"That's your step-dad, right?"

"Yeah. He's even more of a tool drunk than sober." Gwaine rubs his hands over his face, embarrassed.

There's a long pause before Merlin says, "You want a slice of pie?" and then blushes. "Sorry, I – that's my mom talking. When in doubt, feed the upset looking person."

"I'm not upset," Gwaine says quickly.

"Sure, okay. Want some pie anyway?"

"...Please."

Merlin smiles down at him. "Apple, blueberry, or cherry?"

"Blueberry, please."

"Ice cream?"

Gwaine can't help smiling. "Awesome."

Merlin's back inside a couple of minutes with a very generous slice of pie and a mountain of ice cream. "There," he says as he sets the bowl down in front of Gwaine and brandishes a spoon at him. "Now eat your feelings." 

Gwaine grins and takes the spoon, pleased when Merlin returns with two cups of coffee. He sits at the very edge of the booth so he's still visible to customers, but he takes one of the coffees and slumps down like he's done for the night.

"What're you going to do?" Merlin asks after a while, his chin propped on his fist as he watches Gwaine demolish the pie.

"Huh? Oh, about assface?" Gwaine shrugs. "Elena's not answering so I'll just kill some time, sneak back home when he's passed out or fucked off."

"Uh. How about no," Merlin says promptly. "come home with me for a while."

"Nah. It's fine, honestly."

"C'mon, it's cool, my mom's on nights. We can smoke a bowl, play a little Xbox."

"I – that does sound good," Gwaine admits.

There's not long left of Merlin's shift and pretty soon he's back at Gwaine's booth, a covered plate in one hand, and his car keys in the other. "Ready to go?"

"Sure," Gwaine says, adding, "what's that?" and nodding at the plate as he stands to follow Merlin out of the diner.

"More pie," Merlin says. "In case of munchies. Or, you know. Feelings of sadness."

"You're awesome, Merlin."

Merlin grins, pleased. "Well, I try."

"You totally succeed."

*

A couple of hours later, Gwaine feels a hell of a lot better. They've smoke a lot, yeah, but Gwaine's noticed before now that Merlin's presence has this calming effect. He's like pot in that way. Might not actually solve anything, but sure as hell makes dealing with it all a little easier. And naturally, Gwaine's mouth decides without consulting his brain that that would be an awesome thing to share with Merlin.

"You're like weed."

"I'm a weed?" Merlin asks, blinking dazed blue eyes at him.

"No! You're _like_ weed."

There's a pause and then, "Green and smelly?" Merlin asks.

Gwaine sighs. Clearly it's one of those thoughts that just doesn't translate. Instead of digging himself an even deeper hole trying to explain, he just ruffles Merlin's hair and says, "No, duh. I mean you're one of my favorite things."

Merlin laughs and bats Gwaine's hand away. "Dumbass. 'nother?" he offers, gesturing at the beat-up old pencil case where he keeps his gear.

"Awesome."

"You roll this time. I feel lazy."

"Sir, yes, sir."

When they go outside again, Merlin shivers immediately. "Fuck, it's cold."

"Want my hoodie?"

"Oh no, that's okay, I'll go and – "

"It's fine, Merlin," Gwaine assures him, already stripping off his well-worn black hoodie, tugging at the t-shirt he wears underneath to keep it on. "I run hot, anyway." 

Gwaine sparks up while Merlin pulls the top over his head. It's big on Gwaine, and Merlin is absolutely swimming in it. Gwaine grins out into the darkness of the yard, his heart pattering a little bit madly.

The next time Gwaine looks at a clock, it's one in the morning. He supposes it makes sense when he breaks it down. They've watched a movie, and a couple of episodes of some British comedy Merlin likes, and they've smoked a shitload of weed, but it didn't feel like _hours_ were passing at the time.

"Just stay here," Merlin says blithely. "We don't have a spare room, I'm afraid."

Gwaine's too baked and comfortable and happy to summon up a protest. "The couch is more than okay." 

Merlin tried to hide a yawn. "God, I'm a shitty host."

"You're not _hosting_ , you're doing me a favor. Go to bed if you're tired."

Merlin goes upstairs not long later, pausing to gather what remains of his stash and make sure it's safely tucked away for when his mum gets in from work.

"Oh, crap," Gwaine says, looking at the severely depleted bag of weed. "I swear I will top you up for all the weed we smoked today."

"It's okay, seriously," Merlin promises. "Makes up for all the times it was me smoking yours, right? I was gonna call you to re-up tomorrow anyway."

"Cool. I got that batch of White Widow in today. Give me a ride home tomorrow and I'll sort you out good."

"How come you always have so much, anyway?"

"My brother, Gareth, he grows it. Can't be assed organizing the sales himself, so we split the proceeds in my favor. College fund and all that."

"Ha. Nice. Night, Gwaine."

"Night, Merlin."

*

Gwaine wakes up on the couch at about 6 a.m. when Merlin's mom gets home. He doesn't have a fucking _clue_ what to do, so he just pretends to be asleep. She doesn't wake him up demanding to know who he is, though, just goes through to the kitchen for a while before coming back and pausing in front of the couch. Gwaine has to fight to keep breathing normally. She makes a sort of clucking noise before her footsteps fade and return again. Gwaine twitches a little when something soft falls over him. A blanket, he realizes. 

It's warm and slightly fuzzy and smells of fresh air and soap. He wants to say thank you, but he still feels kind of stoned, and on balance, he thinks pretending to be asleep is probably safest. He hears her go upstairs a few minutes later, bathroom and then bedroom doors opening and closing in succession.

Gwaine curls deeper into the couch and pulls the blanket tightly over his shoulders, drifting back to sleep. The next time he wakes, it's because someone's switched the TV on, and is hastily lowering the volume.

"Hey," Merlin says as Gwaine yawns and stretches.

"Mmm. Hi."

"You sleep okay?"

"Yeah, good, thanks," Gwaine says, pushing himself upright.

"My mom woke me up at ass o'clock this morning to tell me off for not giving you a blanket."

Gwaine can't help laughing. "Are you serious?"

Merlin nods, yawns, and rubs his face sleepily all at once.

"Sorry."

" _I did not raise you to be such a terrible host, Merlin!_ She's right though, that was kind of a dick move, leaving you on the couch."

"It's fine, honestly. Thanks for last night, Merlin. I really appreciate it."

"No worries. I know you'd do the same for me if my dad was a present asshole rather than an absent one."

"I would," Gwaine swears. "Not that it's like, particularly Zen at my house. Ever."

"You think my house is Zen? Oh, my mom would love you."

"Well, she did give me a blanket," Gwaine says, wrapping it more tightly around his shoulders.

"True. You hungry?"

"Starved," Gwaine admits with another stretch.

"Alright, breakfast, then," Merlin offers. "I'll give you that ride home after if you like."

Merlin makes waffles from a box of mix and loads Gwaine up with butter and syrup and chocolate chips.

"Breakfast of champions," Merlin assures him around a mouthful, and Gwaine grins at him.

When they're done and Merlin's loaded their plates into the dishwasher, Gwaine says, "I feel like I should say thanks to your mom before I leave."

"No, no, uh-uh, bad idea. Wake her up before midday and you will find out just how un-Zen she can be."

Gwaine laughs and Merlin twirls his car keys around his finger like he had last night. "Ready to go?"

Gwaine glances at his watch. It's managed to get to almost eleven while they sat and talked and ate. The house is probably empty by now. Not that Gwaine thinks anything would happen, but after last night, it'll be awkward as hell to run into his step-dad before they've fully 

"Cool."

*

Sure enough, the driveway and house are both empty by the time they get to Gwaine's. 

"Your folks not home?"

"They're out a lot," Gwaine says with a shrug. He can see Merlin's concern, assures him, "It's cool, honestly. Tony's an asshole to me and Gareth, not to Mom."

"Still," Merlin says.

"She deserves a life outside of us," Gwaine says.

It looks like Merlin's _actually_ biting his tongue.

"Seriously. I don't want you thinking I have some tragic home life," Gwaine insists as he leads Merlin into the quiet house. "Mostly I just have a pretty solitary one. Which suits me nicely."

"I guess," Merlin relents.

"Me and Tony aggravate each other. That's not my mom's fault."

"Oh no, dude, I didn't meant to criticize."

"It's okay," Gwaine shrugs. "She's happy with him. I have no fuckin' clue why, but she is. Alright, make yourself comfortable. I'll go get you some of that Widow."

In the end, Merlin stays for lunch and they pass the afternoon in a lazy kind of haze until Merlin's phone rings at around half four.

"Oh, shit," he says miserably once he hangs up. "Goddamn, Gaius needs me to work the evening shift."

"You are way too stoned to drive," Gwaine tells him.

"I'm too stoned to be around normal people, period," Merlin moans.

"Hey man, it's okay. I've got the works."

"Huh?"

"Eye drops, fresh clothes. You can even jump in the shower if you've got time, take my bike if you still feel too fucked up to drive after."

Merlin's face goes soft. "Oh my god, you are so cool."

"No big deal."

While Merlin goes upstairs (to take his _clothes off_ and get in the _shower_ , Jesus, Gwaine is barely clinging onto his sanity here) Gwaine fusses around downstairs. He tries very, very hard not to think of Merlin wet or naked or soapy and – Jesus Christ. He tears a king skin almost in half and rolls himself a cigarette, going outside to smoke it and give himself a stern talking to.

*

Merlin texts him later, while Gwaine's making a half-hearted stab at his Spanish homework, but mostly thinking about how Merlin had looked in Gwaine's t-shirt, smelling of Gwaine's shampoo and deodorant. The text only says: _omg, terrifying. now i remember why i haven't been on a BMX since i was 10. thnx again._

Gwaine gets an image of Merlin's long limbs contorted awkwardly to ride the small bike and grins to himself. 

Merlin drops Gwaine's bike back later that night.

"Sorry, man," he says. "Your shirt smells like diner. I'll clean it. And thanks again. You totally saved my life earlier."

"It's nothing, honestly," Gwaine assures him.

Recently, he's been thinking that Merlin's somehow become his best friend without Gwaine realizing. It might be more than that, though, if the pleasurable squirming in his stomach whenever Merlin heaps praise on him is anything to go by. It's... It feels really nice, in some ways, how Merlin lights up the whole fucking _world_ just by smiling at Gwaine. In others though, it's terrifying. Gwaine's never felt like he's had quite this much to lose before now.

*

Christmas comes and goes in a haze of bad weather and smoking with his brother, who's home from college. It's notable only really for the long, long week-and-a-bit without hearing from Merlin. Oh sure, he sends Gwaine a text on Christmas day, along with a complicated smiley, but it's not the same as seeing him, talking to him. 

Via text, they plan to meet at Arthur's New Year's Eve party, and Gwaine is so fucking excited even his mom remarks on it, looking at him that way she does sometimes, like she has lost him and she doesn't know why. He can't completely stop himself from thinking sappy thoughts about new beginnings and midnight kisses. She leaves soon after for the night with Tony, and Gareth's old high school friends descend en masse approximately five minutes later. 

Gareth's crowd is only a couple of years older than Gwaine, and they've all known him since he was a kid. He has to put up with a lot of teasing and hair-ruffling, but they also ensure that by nine at night, he's well on the way to spectacularly drunk. He can't really handle drinking and smoking at the same time, and given that he prefers smoking, he's not much of a drinker.

He wakes up on the couch at 3 a.m. with the sickly beginnings of a hangover, and the very real urge to slap himself, if he thought he could coordinate such a maneuver. There's a snuffly, grunting snore from nearby that Gwaine recognizes. He forces on eye open – the lights are still blazing, Jesus, _ow_ – and spots Gareth asleep on the floor, one foot propped up on the coffee table. It looks wickedly uncomfortable and Gwaine is glad in a petty, pointless kind of way. He tries to lift his head and the bass line pounding in his brain turns frenetic. Later, maybe, he tells himself. _Ugh, god, what a fuck up_ is his last conscious thought for a long time.

Ten-thirty finds him drinking icy water straight from the tap and wishing like hell that Merlin was there to make him waffles.

"Shitfuck," he mutters, and one of Gareth's friends groans.

Gwaine drags himself up to his room and finds his phone on the bed. He has a handful of happy new year texts, and a couple of missed calls from Merlin. Regret washes over him again and he thumbs through his phone. He carefully nuzzles into the pillow and balances the phone on his cheek after he dials.

The ringing makes his head buzz and it takes way too fucking long for Elena to answer with a croaky hello.

"I hate myself," he groans. 

"It's New Year's Day. You're supposed to hate yourself." There's a grunt, a muffled _ow_ , and then she says, "Oh, huh. You don't hate yourself cause you're hungover, you hate yourself cause you stood Merlin up."

"I – "

"He asked me where you were. Like five separate times. Gwaine, he's so cute. What's your problem, seriously?"

He moans and hangs up, hoping she knows him well enough to interpret the underlying _I love you dearly and treasure your opinion but my skull is bursting and my brain will_ actually fall out _if you make me discuss this now_.

He sleeps for a while longer and when he wakes up again he feels marginally better. Bracing himself, he decides he can't put it off any longer and calls Merlin.

Merlin's quick to answer. "Hey, stranger!"

"I'm really sorry," Gwaine says immediately. "I know we said we'd meet at the party. My brother's friends got me horrendously drunk. I was passed out by eleven, woke up at three. Shittiest New Year's ever. I'm still suffering."

"It's okay," Merlin assures him. "You missed a good time, though."

"Yeah, I bet," Gwaine says, feeling morose. He missed hours of Merlin's company, of _course_ he missed a good time.

"You wanna hang out sometime before school starts again?"

"Hell yeah," Gwaine says, swinging his legs out of bed. "Ugh. Maybe not today?"

Merlin laughs, and Gwaine thinks the fact that any other sound at that volume right now would split his head open probably says a lot.

"I was thinking tomorrow?" Merlin suggests. "My mom's at work right now so she'll be home asleep. We'll have to be super-sneaky if we wanna smoke, but..."

"No, no, that's cool," Gwaine says. "My New Year's resolution is not to get too fucked up for a few days."

"I don't think that's how New Year's resolutions work."

"Hey. I'm a realist, Merlin."

Merlin laughs again, low and warm this time. "Okay, Gwaine. Come over whenever."

"Sure. Mmm. Sorry again."

"Go back to sleep, Gwaine."

*

They see each other a couple of times before school starts, and it's enjoyable like always. Gwaine can't help feeling like he missed an opportunity, though. A few weeks after the start of school, Gwaine gets home from a run to find his phone ringing. It's Merlin, and unusually for his calls to Gwaine, there's a hubbub of voices in the background, along with fairly loud music.

Sounding hushed, Merlin asks, "Hey. Any chance you can get here inside half an hour?"

Gwaine glances at his watch. "Sure, Merlin. I'm just in from a run, let me grab a quick shower and I'll head straight to you."

"Perfect, thanks."

"Cool. What're you looking for?"

"Can you do me a quarter ounce?"

"Sure."

There are a couple of extra cars parked outside Merlin's house and Gwaine can hear music as soon as Merlin opens the door to him.

"Hi."

"Hey. Wow, that was quick, thank you."

"Super-speedy service with a smile," Gwaine said with a grin.

A voice from somewhere else – the kitchen, Gwaine thinks – shouts, "Hey, where's the birthday boy?"

Merlin glances over his shoulder and Gwaine asks, "It's your birthday?"

"Uh, yeah," Merlin says, looking oddly bashful.

The first thing Gwaine thinks is _why didn't you tell me_ , and really, he can't ask that, because he has this horrible feeling it'll sound whiny and needy and _Merrrlin, I thought you liiiiiked me_. 

So he says nothing, which is lucky, because Merlin goes on to say, "Surprise...outing, I don't know, I haven't been informed."

 _See_ , Gwaine tells himself sharply. _See where indulging in these stupid, heart-poundy feelings would have got you_. Laughed at. Or, maybe more likely, just looked at in a concerned fashion. Way worse, in Gwaine's opinion.

"Well, happy birthday."

"Oh, here, lemme," Merlin says, pulling his wallet out of his back pocket. 

Gwaine waves away the bundle of notes Merlin tries to hand him. "Keep your money."

"Dude – " Merlin tries to protest.

" Call it a birthday present."

Merlin squints down at the fat baggie. "It's a _lot_."

"You're a good customer."

"Shit, you're a fucking awesome dealer! Will you stay?"

"Oh, uh – "

"Seriously. No one here is nearly as stoned as I am. I'm a stranger in a strange land, Gwaine."

"I – "

"Stoner's code, man! You can't abandon me."

Gwaine laughs. "Merlin! I was trying to say I'd love to."

Merlin positively beams at him, tucking the baggie Gwaine handed him into his pocket, and leading Gwaine through to the kitchen and the others. There's Arthur, of course. In spite of their initial dismissal of each other as an insignificant nerd and a spoilt pretty boy, they're close now. There's Gwen and her brother Elyan too. Freya and her cousin Gilli, one of Gwaine's once in a while customers. Lance is there too, and Merlin and Gwen immediately get on at Gwaine to phone Elena and get her to join them. Gwaine does as he's told before he says a proper hello to Lance. 

Lance is like...textbook hippie. Gwaine's never met someone so clearly born into the wrong era. Rambles on about weed bringing them closer to the earth, and the spirituality inherent in being a raging pothead. Gwaine teases him unmercifully, but he likes Lance a lot. It's not always easy to have smoker friends when you deal, but Lance definitely counts.

It turns out that the grand plan is bowling, and Gwaine's pretty sure he sees a handful of bottles of suspiciously diluted looking soda in Gwen's large purse. Sure enough, someone hands one over to Merlin before they leave the house and he takes a deep drink.

"Gah."

"Vodka," Arthur says, looking up from where he's talking with Elyan. "You're welcome."

Merlin's still shaking his head like he's got water in his ears and says, "Okay, Gwaine, Lance, anyone else that wants, I vote we smoke a joint before we leave _and it's my birthday so you can't complain_ ," he adds in a rush, with a firm, " _Arthur._ "

Gwaine smirks and gets to work rolling a joint, Elena arriving just before they go to smoke, dropped off by her older brother. After, they split themselves between Elyan and Arthur's cars and Gwaine's truck. He's put out when Merlin ends up in Arthur's car, but the way he waves at Gwaine through the window makes up for it. From the corner of his eye, Gwaine can see Elena grinning.

"Shut up," he tells her in an undertone, glancing towards the back seat where Freya and Gilli are mercifully talking amongst themselves.

Elena pats his hand consolingly. "Adorable."

*

Bowling is fun. Arthur has booked the very end lane and they split into teams, quickly getting raucous. Tucked away as they are, it's easy for Gwen to keep topping up Merlin's soda with the doctored ones from her purse. Merlin's quickly tipsy, laughing along with everyone's jokes. He's affectionate and funny, and Gwaine finds himself watching with a soft smile which he quickly tries to hide when he realizes Arthur is standing at his elbow.

"I would have asked you to come," he tells Gwaine. "I didn't realize you guys were close. Outside of, um, _business_."

Gwaine's high enough to feel amused that Arthur is so fucking proper. "Yeah. We, ah. We get along."

"That's cool. Merlin's a good guy," Arthur says, in the tone of someone who cares abruptly and deeply about Merlin and can't entirely work out why. Gwaine's glad to know it's not just him, at the same time as he can't help feeling kind of put out. It's the most ridiculous thing in the world to feel possessive over someone who isn't even yours, but Gwaine can't help it. Maybe Arthur doesn't see Merlin the _same_ way Gwaine does, but he sees that Merlin's special. That's enough for Gwaine to feel just a little resentful.

"He is," Gwaine says, ignoring his less charitable feelings. He even manages to share a laugh with Arthur when, after Elyan gets a spare, he and Merlin construct an increasingly clumsy secret handshake.

They play several protracted games, and after a while Gwaine leads Elena over to the little diner housed in the far end of the bowling alley and order enough fries to go around. As well as ketchup, Gwaine picks up a couple of sachets of mayonnaise. Elena wrinkles her nose.

"Merlin likes it," he says, and he can _see_ her holding back on some smartass comment. At least she's holding back at all, he figures.

The evening passes and while Gwaine's waiting for his turn to bowl, Gilli hits him up for some weed, and they decide to go back to the truck and smoke a joint from the small stash Gwaine has in his glove compartment.

Gwaine taps Merlin on the shoulder. "Me, Gilli and Lance are go smoke a joint. You in?"

"Sure!" Merlin says enthusiastically. "Let me just take my turn."

Merlin is as clumsy and over-the-top in his bowling as he is in everything else tonight, and Gwaine can't help joining in the general laughter.

"Do you need the kiddie bumper bars?" Arthur asks.

Merlin flips him the bird and cedes his next turn to Freya. "Kick his ass, Frey."

She absolutely, comprehensively does, and Merlin's laughs loudly at Arthur's misfortune.

"Ooh, man, that feels good," Merlin says. "Come on, let's go."

*

On the way back they lag behind Gilli and Lance a little, and Gwaine slings his arm around Merlin. It's such an instinctive thing, and yet a split second after, it feels huge, having his arm around Merlin's warm waist, their bodies bumping together. Merlin barely seems to notice though, and Gwaine doesn't know whether he should be disappointed or glad.

By the time they get back to the others, Merlin is talking animatedly. "Hey," he says, slurring a little. "You know I – I didn't _not_ invite you, right? I didn't invite anyone except Will. They all just...descended."

Gwaine's amused by Merlin's choice of words.

"Descended, huh?"

"Full on plague of locusts," Merlin says urgently. "Cause I'd totally invite you, dude. You're like, the _first_ person I'd invite."

"Thanks, Merlin," Gwaine says, reaching out to steady Merlin when he wobbles a little. "You're a pretty chatty drunk, huh? Not that I'm surprised. You're chatty all the time."

"I am. I _am_. They totally heard that plague of locusts thing, right?"

Gwaine looks over Merlin's shoulder at where Freya and Elena are blatantly eavesdropping, whispering together. _Danger sign_ , he thinks distantly.

"They mostly laughed," he tells Merlin. "Elyan looks like he might kick your ass later."

"Dude!" protests Elyan, who'd laughed hardest. 

"I – " Merlin says, smiling at Gwaine. "I really want some ice cream. Or, like, a root beer float. Something with sugar."

"I think they only do shakes here."

" _Ugh_ ," Merlin complains, pouting in a fashion Gwaine is resolutely _not_ thinking of as adorable.

"I think we should move this party onwards before the birthday boy exposes all the underage drinking," Arthur says, overhearing.

"Agreed," Gwaine says, looking over at where Gwen and Elena are now having an intense, over-loud conversation about how bowling balls freak them out, you know, when you really stop to think about it.

The bowling alley is only a ten minute walk from the Gaius' diner, and it's there that Merlin insists they withdraw to. Gwaine's not complaining, because he can verify what Merlin's saying about the diner's vanilla ice cream. It really is awesome.

When they get inside, they form a sort of protective ring around Merlin who is not _quite_ falling down drunk. He is leaning against Arthur though, talking to him in a low voice. And Gwaine is – is totally _not_ jealous. Of the rich, clever, handsome guy who has Merlin's mouth like, _centimeters_ from his ear. Not even a little. 

Arthur covers the cost of a variety of ice cream sundaes and they take over one of the booths in the corner, Elyan dragging chairs over from Freya and Gwen with a sweeping bow. After they're all stuffed with ice cream and syrup and wafers and marshmallows, and whatever else Merlin loaded them up on, Arthur goes back to the counter.

"Here," he says when he returns, pushing a muddy looking cup of coffee towards Merlin. "Drink that."

Gwaine snags it before Merlin can get his hands on it. "Merlin. What time's your mom getting off work today?"

"6 a.m.," Merlin says after a moment's deliberation.

"Right. Sobering you up with this crap isn't exactly number one priority."

Arthur takes the coffee back from Gwaine and manages a single sip before he pulls a face and sets it down. Freya claims it and drinks it in three long swallows.

"Ew," Arthur says.

"Bottom of the jug sludge is Freya's favorite," Merlin confides. "I save it for her."

"He does," Freya tells everyone, reaching over the table to squeeze Merlin's hand.

It's getting late, and in spite of the toxic coffee, soon Freya's not the only one stifling yawns. They walk back to the bowling alley and the cars in a loose knot, Freya and Gilli insisting on singing a rousing chorus of _Happy Birthday_ to Merlin. Elyan and Gwen both claim to be too far gone to drive, but they live within walking distance, and head off, sibling bickering that Gwaine recognizes from when Gareth lived at home trailing behind them.

Arthur gives a weary sigh. "A couple of you are going to have to wait, I'll run you home in shifts."

"Um, what am I, decorative?" Gwaine asks. "Elena and Lance are going your way, these three are going mine. Problem solved," he says, brandishing his car keys. 

"Are you sure that's a good idea?" Arthur asks. "You look disgustingly high."

Gwaine scoffs. He takes back all his charitable thoughts. Arthur _can_ be cool, but he can also be a sanctimonious pain in the ass.

"I'm a better driver than you any day," Gwaine tells him.

"Of course. I don't know why I'm worried. I doubt that heap of rust can get above forty."

"Hey!" Merlin protests. "I like Gwaine's truck."

Arthur kind of winces and says, "I am _well_ aware," which strikes Gwaine as a little odd. 

"Gwaine's an excellent stoned driver," Elena promises, and Arthur relents. Naturally, he believes _her_.

"Merlin," Arthur says. "Happy birthday. Text me when you get home, please, so I know this idiot hasn't wrapped you all around a tree."

Gwaine gives Arthur the finger as he drives away. He drops Freya home first, then Gilli. Merlin's asleep against the window by the time they get to his house. Gwaine allows himself a moment to look at him, drinking in the swoop of his lashes, the shadows his cheekbones make in the glow of the interior lights. He reaches out, honestly intending to take Merlin's shoulder and shake him awake. Instead, his hand finds Merlin's cheek, cups gently until Merlin stirs. He blinks himself awake but doesn't move, other than maybe to settle a little more firmly into Gwaine's touch.

"Hey. We're back at yours," Gwaine tells him.

Merlin's eyes fly open wide. "Oh, man. I fell asleep?"

Gwaine nods. "After we dropped Gilli home."

"Crap. Sorry."

"That's okay. Good birthday?"

Merlin's smile is soft. "Awesome."

"Cool."

The silence stretches for a long moment, comfortable and exciting all at once. Right up until Merlin's phone rings, anyway, loud in the small cab. Merlin winces when he looks at the screen and then says, "Hi, Arthur."

On the one hand, Gwaine can't hate him. His concern for Merlin is evident even in the tinny version of his voice Gwaine can hear. On the other hand, he's a cock blocking asshole, and Gwaine hopes he gets crabs.

When he gets off the phone, Merlin grins at Gwaine. "I guess I better go. Thanks for coming tonight."

"It was fun. Happy birthday, Merlin."

"Thanks, Gwaine."

And then he's gone.

*

After Merlin's birthday, Gwaine feels like kicking himself, because they were so goddamn close and then nothing. Still, he's pretty sure his interest isn't one-sided anymore – maybe it never was, and he was just too dumb to notice. Part of him – the almost overwhelmingly horny and impatient part – wants to just plant a kiss on Merlin's beautiful mouth the next time they see each other. And yet... 

He doesn't want to set himself up for a one-off stoned make-out session. He needs a way to make it clear to Merlin. There has to be something. He doesn't want to do anything too serious, having seen enough people crash and burn in the name of romantic gestures, but at the same time, Gwaine wants Merlin to know it's more than some casual thing. He can't imagine a way of saying it that doesn't sounds like _way_ too much. He _feels_ too much, that's the problem.

And then inspiration strikes with all the clarity of a little voice whispering in his ear: _it's only a week and a half until Valentine's day_.

Good idea? Terrible idea? On balance, he thinks tentatively good, because surely Merlin knows him well enough by now to read a certain amount of irony in the gesture. Not too much, though. It's probably pretty much impossible to totally disregard the intent behind a Valentine's gift.

Maybe it's stupid to wait for an occasion to make his move, and what with New Year's, and Merlin's birthday slipping past with no discernible change in the status of their relationship, maybe he should give such landmarks up as a bad job. On the other hand, maybe the third time will be the charm. And really, if you can't declare your – not _love_ , but – okay, love, in the absence of a more appropriate (less terrifying) word – to one of your best friends on Valentine's day, when can you?

Which is all well and good, really. Except that then Gwaine realizes he's never had to get a Valentine's gift before, and what the fuck is he supposed to do, exactly? He just waits at first, convinced the perfect idea will occur to him soon enough. Half a week ticks by that way though, and Gwaine decides reluctantly that it's time to call in reinforcements. He calls Elena with a heavy sense of impending mockery.

"What's a good Valentine's present?" Gwaine asks.

There's a beat before she says, "A scrap of originality, and the ability not to fall for a fucking Hallmark holiday. Why?"

Gwaine groans. "You're useless. What kind of girl are you, anyway?"

"One that doesn't conform to your gender stereotypes," she says sweetly. "Sorry."

"Fuck."

"Look," she says, with a long-suffering sigh. "I'm sure Merlin would be happy with...I don't know, a blunt, or something."

"Okay, one, who said anything about Merlin?"

"You did. Every day. For the last I don't even wanna know how many months," Elena says, overriding Gwaine's next point. "Just, you know." She hums a little riff and tells him, "Kiss the boy."

"Is this – are you doing a Little Mermaid bit? Is your romantic advice really based on a Disney film? So much for overthrowing my gender stereotypes, E. For shame," he tells her, throwing himself down onto his bed.

"Oh, shut up, you idiot."

"This has been a really helpful phone call," he says. "I'm glad we're friends."

"Love you too," she says, and hangs up on him.

"Brilliant," he mutters to the ceiling. He's back to square one. He never even made it to square two.

The idea finally hits him as he's drifting off to sleep that night. Maybe it's the fuzzy pre-unconsciousness talking, but it seems like a fucking _perfect_ idea. He makes the decision and then mentally puts it in a box and determinedly does not think about it for a few days. Thursday the thirteenth, he sets to work with a fresh pack of rolling papers, a generous pile of weed, and all the roach material he can lay hands on.

This time, he puts his efforts in a literal box, goes to bed and _doesn't think about it_ some more. The next day at school he's jittery from a lack of sleep and an excess of caffeine. He tracks Merlin down at lunch and manages to get him on his own for a few brief moments. 

"Hey, do you wanna come over after school? I have something for you."

"Sure," Merlin says, casual like Gwaine means a DVD or a book.

Gwaine's not sure if he does or doesn't want Merlin to notice the date. On the one hand, if he notices it might be more straightforward to present him with the gift. On the other, if he notices and isn't on the same page, then he's got plenty of time to compose the kind of Dear John speech Gwaine really doesn't want to hear. 

Afternoon classes tick past agonizingly slow, and then Gwaine's in the parking lot, not quite daring to look around and see if he can spot Merlin's car. He turns the radio up in the truck and tells himself he's not nervous for the whole drive. 

Merlin gets there only about ten minutes after Gwaine, by which time he's waiting inside the front door, his attempt at a gesture clutched behind his back. He opens the door for Merlin and says, "Hi."

Jesus, he is _so_ nervous.

"Hi," Merlin says, casting a quizzical look at the hand Gwaine is still holding behind his back.

"Hey. Uh. Come in."

"Right!" Merlin says, stepping inside, looking askance at Gwaine when he doesn't immediately let him past.

"I, uh. So the thing – that I have for here. Is, um. Here," Gwaine says, bringing his hand around.

Apparently Merlin didn't catch onto the day because he has this kind of dumbfounded look on his face, like he can't think of a single reason why Gwaine might be handing him three carefully rolled tulip joints. The roaches are the length of a king skin, and the weed is packed into fat bulbs at the ends, tapering to a point. Each one has a delicate little curl of rolling paper on the stem, and the whole bundle is carefully wrapped in tin foil, tied around with the remains of a hair ribbon (thanks, Elena). 

Gwaine stares at Merlin's hands. And okay, maybe this was one of those ideas that really only seems good on the cusp between asleep and awake. 

Merlin touches his finger to one of the curls of rolling paper that make the leaves and says, "Um."

Gwaine had carefully colored in those leaves with a green marker pen last night. At a moment when he probably should have been deciding this was a terrible idea. The silence is getting to him.

"Happy Valentine's?" he offers.

"What is – seriously?" Merlin asks, taking the joints from Gwaine.

"Um. Yeah. Tulips," Gwaine says and Jesus fucking Christ, he's down to just random words now, seriously? "They're called tulips. I thought, with Valentine's and all that. I mean, I never got a Valentine for a guy before. Or. You know, for anyone. Is that cool?"

Merlin looks at the little bouquet of joints, and then back up at Gwaine. "Totally cool," he says, grinning. "Best Valentine ever."

"Elena said the best thing you can do for Valentine's is not buy into the whole sorry mess, but I think maybe it's to sack up and...you know. Get it out there."

"Right," Merlin says slowly, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"I wanted to get some of those transparent rolling papers in red for the actual flowers, but they make the joint taste gross, and – I was over-thinking it, right?" Gwaine asks.

"Totally over-thinking it," Merlin agrees, and his smile is huge now.

Gwaine can't help mirroring it, something like relief flooding through him. He feels, dumb and cheesy as it is, that his heart has swollen to about three times its regular size. Merlin sways a little closer to Gwaine and tells him, "I will so be your Valentine."

"That's, uh. That's really good." Gwaine touches Merlin's hand where he's holding the joints. He curls his hand around Merlin's, his thumb tracing an arc over Merlin's knuckles.

"So, uh – " Merlin nudges his glasses back up his nose with his free hand and says, "You maybe wanna smoke one of these and make out?"

Gwaine laughs, a bubble of pure happiness, and leans close enough to feel the warmth coming off Merlin.

"That's why I like you," Gwaine says. "Right to the point."

*

They wind up on the porch swing outside Gwaine's back door, passing one of the tulips back and forth between them. The swing is large enough that Gwaine's got one leg along the back of the seat, his other foot on the ground to rock them slightly. Merlin settles without hesitation into the gap that provides, his back warm against Gwaine's chest.

And alright, Gwaine's an idiot. It's _this simple_ , really? He's a lucky idiot though, so he's not that bothered. 

"Wow," Merlin says when they're done smoking. "That was – wow."

"Mmm. Nice," Gwaine agrees.

"Never had one of those before."

"No? Not for every day, but they're good."

Merlin nods and rolls his head against Gwaine's shoulder. Gwaine sets the swing rocking gently again and feels Merlin settle more comfortably against him. He runs his fingers down Merlin's forearm to circle his wrist.

"You good?" Gwaine asks.

"Mmm," Merlin hums. "Really good." 

He tips his head back and it looks like an invitation, so Gwaine kisses the corner of his jaw.

"You're so hot," he tells Merlin, who turns his hand in a fumbling movement to lace their fingers together. "C'mere, come on."

Merlin turns around clumsily in the swing, kneeling kind of uncertainly until Gwaine pulls him into his lap. Merlin's knees squeeze tight at his sides, and he murmurs something low and indecipherable, _achy_ with lust. Gwaine lifts his chin and kisses Merlin properly. Merlin's mouth opens easily for him, little flickering licks of his tongue between Gwaine's lips.

Gwaine digs his fingers into Merlin's hair and holds him tight, making the kiss slow and deep and hungry. The crisp sunshine seems to sway back and forth as the swing rocks, shadows shifting over them. Distantly, Gwaine can hear his phone ringing from his back pocket but Merlin doesn't seem to have noticed, and Gwaine has no interest in answering it anyway, so he ignores it.

Kissing Merlin is so much more than Gwaine thought it would be. And he thought it'd be pretty fucking amazing. Merlin has a mouth _made_ for kissing. But it's not just his pretty mouth, and his warm body, and the already-familiar scent of him. Merlin's irrepressible, gorgeous personality is in every kiss, too. It's in the way he curls around Gwaine and breaks off sometimes just to smile at him. It's in the way his fingers flutter everywhere. Over Gwaine's face, around his wrist, the way he bites Gwaine's lip and then pulls back to check it's okay.

Gwaine's lips feel tingly, but he could happily kiss Merlin until they were utterly numb. By the time Merlin's hands are tangled in Gwaine's hair, he's on the edge of moaning into their kisses. Christ, he's so hot, languid where he's so stoned. His mouth tastes of weed and Dr. Pepper, Gwaine's new favorite flavor for sure. 

"Can – " Merlin gasps out. "Can we go inside?"

" _Shit_ , yeah," Gwaine says eagerly, and helps Merlin out of his lap. They pull each other towards the house and Gwaine can't stop himself, kisses Merlin again as soon as they're in off the deck. Merlin's eager and pliant, makes it easy for Gwaine to nudge him up against the refrigerator and make the kiss sloppy and urgent. The frame of Merlin's glasses is digging into Gwaine's cheek, but Merlin's got his legs spread and is grinding into Gwaine's thigh, so Gwaine decides on balance, he doesn't give a fuck about the glasses.

Gwaine presses his leg in harder and he's maybe a little in love with the way Merlin goes instantly loose, like he's just taken a crazy bong hit. Gwaine squeezes even closer to him and Merlin melts into him, fitting himself up against Gwaine's body. He's hot through his clothes and Gwaine wants to put his mouth all over Merlin's body. Merlin's hands are on Gwaine's hips, holding tight, as though Gwaine's got some kind of plan to move anywhere except closer.

"You're so goddamned cute," he tells Merlin. "Drive me crazy thinking about you."

Merlin flushes and fumbles, and it's just not fair how adorable he is. Gwaine kisses him again for fear of saying something spectacularly stupid. Merlin's making these soft, pleased noises into Gwaine's mouth as he deepens their kiss, sucking at Gwaine's lower lip in a way that gives him a crystal clear flash of Merlin on his knees, sucking something different. 

His stomach knots up tight with want and he tells Merlin, "Christ, come on, come upstairs with me."

Merlin's nodding before Gwaine's even finished speaking. As Gwaine peels himself off Merlin and moves to lead the way, Merlin grabs his hand and laces their fingers together. Gwaine squeezes tight and tugs Merlin along. Merlin laughs and Gwaine has to turn at the foot of the stairs to reel him in and taste the sound on his lips. 

They manage to get up the stairs eventually and then Gwaine has Merlin in his bedroom, and that is pretty huge. It shouldn't be, because Merlin's been here before a couple of times, when Gwaine's (not so accidentally) failed to get a baggie fixed up before Merlin arrive to pick up. But then Merlin's never been here and also been pawing at Gwaine's shirt and looking an endearing mix of nervous and determined. Gwaine obliges him, yanking his t-shirt off over his head and tossing it aside.

Merlin makes this kinda squeaking noise and says, "Oh my god, you're so hot. Here – can I – " and pushes Gwaine towards the bed. His hands are hot on Gwaine's stomach, one skittering up to tweak his nipple. Gwaine tries not to be one of those jocky assholes who actually gives a crap about their muscles but he's never been so glad to be kinda ripped as he is right now, seeing what it does to Merlin. 

They end up on Gwaine's bed in much the same positions as they were on the swing, but Gwaine is hardly complaining about that. A lapful of Merlin is awesome, especially when Gwaine is quickly picking up tricks to make him squirm.

"This is – oh man, kissing you is the _best_ thing, but – "

"But?" Gwaine asks, digging his fingers into Merlin's thigh where it's curled around him. "No, uh-uh. Don't like the sound of that."

" _But_ ," Merlin says significantly, "If we don't stop for a second, I'm gonna come in my shorts."

The idea has a certain appeal, but Gwaine isn't sure Merlin thinks so. He nods and nudges Merlin back. He stands on wobbly feet between Gwaine's legs and Gwaine unbuttons his shirt – the ones that made the trip upstairs in one piece, anyway. Merlin's pale skin is unevenly flushed, his eyes dark as he stares down at where Gwaine is undoing his belt.

"I wanna suck you off," Gwaine tells him. "God, I really want to. Think about it all the time, Jesus, Merlin."

"I, uh. Okay, one, _yes_ , and two, I gotta sit down for this."

Gwaine laughs and throws his arms around Merlin, pulling him in. He ends up with his face kinda smooshed into Merlin's stomach and Merlin leaning over him, petting his shoulder blades. It's basically the weirdest hug _ever_ , but Gwaine wouldn't change it for anything.

Merlin straightens up and Gwaine pulls him down onto the bed. It takes a few seconds of coordination and a brief head-rush, but Gwaine gets to the floor between Merlin's feet. He's briefly distracted by the way Merlin's toes, long and grass-stained, curl as he waits. Jesus, Gwaine has it so, _so_ bad for this kid. He drags Merlin's jeans and boxers down his thighs and man, every single inch of Merlin is pretty and well made, and Gwaine wants him so much.

Merlin is quiet, though. Weirdly quiet, Gwaine thinks. He'd had Merlin pegged as a babbler. He looks up and Merlin looks – looks _undone_ , looks like he's already come twice. He's kinda confused looking, maybe a little slack-jawed, and it really shouldn't be appealing. 

"Hey," Gwaine says, a thought occurring to him. "You have done this before, right?"

"Um." Merlin plays with the ends of Gwaine's hair, not quite meeting his eyes. "If I say no, are you gonna stop?"

"Duh. It'd take a lot more than _that_ to get me to stop."

"Well, okay, in that case, no. Never. Not even a little. And I'm really fucking nervous, okay, because you are – you _so_ hot, alright? And I like you really stupid amounts, and I kind of think I'm gonna come like, the _second_ you put your mouth on me and. Um. No. No, I have not done this before."

Gwaine doesn't mean to laugh but he can't help it. When he thought _babbling_ , that wasn't exactly what he'd had in mind.He pitches forward, face-plants in Merlin's thigh and stays there, shoulders shaking. 

"You – you're such an asshole," Merlin tells him, but he doesn't really sound that annoyed.

Gwaine lifts his head anyway, leans up towards Merlin and says, "I know. I know I am. Sorry. You're just – you're so fucking cute, Merlin. C'mere. Don't be mad at me."

"I'm not mad at you, stupid," Merlin says between kisses. "I'm mad at my hyperactive dick. Maybe a little at you for making it, uh. Act out."

Gwaine bites down on the inside of his cheeks until he feels like his eyes are going to water. He can feel his lip trying to tremble into a grin. 

"Oh my god. Laugh, asshole," Merlin tells him, poking Gwaine in the ribs. Gwaine does, hiding his face in Merlin's neck.

"I'm sorry," he says, when he's pulled himself together a little. "I am."

"It's okay," Merlin says around a giggle of his own, his lips nudging against Gwaine's cheek before finding his mouth. "You – god, I love kissing you."

"Mmm. Me too," Gwaine assures him, and does it again, makes it messy and urgent. "And if you do, uh, what was it, now? Come the _second_ I put my mouth on you, it's cool."

Merlin gives him a pointed look.

"Okay, it's pretty much the polar opposite of cool, but it's okay."

"Yeah?"

"Sure. Means I get to jump you again five seconds later and it looks like I'm doing you a favor instead of like maybe I'm already hooked on you."

Merlin touches Gwaine's hair, gives him a soft look. That look makes something twist in Gwaine's stomach. It's kinda scary, and he's glad when Merlin kisses him again, weirdly even gladder when he pulls back and says, "Um. Oh, man. Hang on. I can't even believe – my glasses are fogging up." 

Gwaine grins hugely, kissing the tip of Merlin's nose before pulling off Merlin's glasses, setting them on the low table by his bed. Merlin's eyes look huge and dark without the lenses and Gwaine has to kiss him again. Once more, he promises himself.

"Okay," he says, pulling away and resettling on his knees. "Are you sitting comfortably? Then I will begin."

Merlin laughs and tugs on Gwaine's hair. "You're such a dork."

"Mmm. Shh. Sit back and enjoy the ride."

Merlin nods, and he's still got that look of almost frantic interest on his face. A noise punches out of him as Gwaine wraps a hand around Merlin's cock. Merlin doesn't come instantly, and he looks so damn proud of that that Gwaine has to kiss him. The spot nearest to his mouth right now is Merlin's knee, so he kisses that. When he looks up it's to see Merlin staring down with a weird, fond expression on his face.

"Can I?" Gwaine asks.

"What? Obviously!"

"Tell me," Gwaine requests. 

"What, are you like a sexual vampire? You can't touch me unless I directly invite you to?"

Gwaine shrugs. "I just like hearing it. Turns me on."

"You – have a consent kink," Merlin says.

"It's hardly a _kink_ , Merlin."

"It totally is!"

"It's just hot, okay? Come on. Tell me."

Merlin flushes even hotter, but he tells Gwaine, "You can blow me."

Gwaine groans and squeezes himself through his jeans. Merlin's not the only one in danger of coming in his pants, so Gwaine sacrifices a couple of seconds to undo his belt and ease his cock out of his boxers. After that, it's no time wasted. He sucks the head of Merlin's cock into his mouth, relishing the taste. Merlin goes totally still for a second, and Jesus, maybe Merlin wasn't underestimating his staying power. But as Gwaine takes him in deeper, Merlin goes languid and loose, a rumbling moan tumbling out of him.

Merlin tastes hot and bitter-sweet, fucking delicious on Gwaine's tongue. He curls his fingers through Gwaine's hair, deliberately gentle, Gwaine thinks. Merlin hisses out a sharp little breath as Gwaine opens his mouth and takes Merlin in slowly. He's partly wanting to give Merlin time to adjust, but partly wanting that for himself too, because Merlin makes him feel crazy and out of control. Gwaine wraps his hand around the base of Merlin's cock and squeezes in time with the slow, sucking rhythm he's worked up to.

"Shit, oh, oh my god. Fuck, your mouth is so perfect," Merlin says, his fingers slipping over Gwaine's cheek, tracing around his wet lips with one hesitant fingertip. "Holy shit, I can't believe you're sucking me off."

And there's the babbling that Gwaine was expecting. He squeezes his own cock, moans around Merlin's.

"Oh my god, oh my god. I wanna fuck your mouth. Shit, Gwaine, you're killing me."

Gwaine pulls off Merlin's dick to take a few shuddering breaths. "You can move, sweetheart," he says, and Merlin's hips notch forward. It's a pretty blatant request and Gwaine obliges, taking Merlin in again and bobbing his head while he sucks. Merlin's making even less sense as he curls over Gwaine again, his words rough-edged with what might be sobs. Oh god, he's wound _so_ tight, and Gwaine just wants to make him come apart, unravel. He wants Merlin out of his head on pleasure, and his desire to get Merlin high even out of his own stash suddenly makes a lot more sense.

Gwaine's still got a hand on his own cock, but if he does any more than squeeze, he's gonna come and that will seriously throw off the nice rhythm he's working Merlin into. He's pushing into Gwaine's mouth now, not enough to choke him, but enough that he can feel it, maybe struggles to take it now and then.

Merlin comes pretty quickly after that, tugging Gwaine away with a pull on his hair that's too sharp to resist. He strokes Merlin through it, watching his face closely as long as he can before he has to kiss Merlin again, his breath coming in soft pants against Gwaine's mouth. 

"What – um. What would you like?" Merlin asks, and he sounds eager and shy all at once. It's easy to press Merlin down onto his back and crawl up the mattress to kiss him.

"Here," Gwaine says, pulling Merlin's hand down between their bodies. 

Merlin doesn't need any more coaxing than that, shaking off Gwaine's grip to reach for his cock. His fingers are ever so slightly hesitant, but still feel fucking fantastic. Even so, it's Merlin's breathless little _oh_ that gets Gwaine going. Merlin likes that, if his wicked little grin is anything to go by.

"Mmh – yeah, hang on, c'mere," Gwaine says and lifts Merlin's hand to his mouth. He licks Merlin's palm messily and Merlin groans helplessly.

"God, that was amazing," Merlin says as he gets his hand around Gwaine again, wet and slick this time.

Gwaine can only grunt, nuzzling at the side of Merlin's face before catching his mouth in a kiss. Merlin's lost all sign of hesitance and strokes Gwaine in a fast, thrilling rhythm. Gwaine's lost to it, just kissing Merlin in between choppy, panting breaths. He's got his hands planted on either side of Merlin, rocking his hips into the tight circle of Merlin's fist. What pushes him – more like knocks him _flying_ – over the edge is the way Merlin breaks their kiss to roll his forehead against Gwaine's and stare down between their bodies, his eyes almost all pupil, but very, very bright.

When he feels less like he might _actually_ shake apart, Gwaine fumbles on his bedside table for tissues, carefully wiping Merlin's hand and stomach. He glances up to find Merlin watching him through his lashes. Gwaine abruptly realizes his phone is ringing again and he groans, leaning off the edge of the bed and fumbling through his discarded clothes to find the stupid thing and switch it off. "Fucking potheads."

Merlin giggles, flopping onto his back. "Tiny bit hypocritical."

"Fuck 'em," Gwaine says, fitting himself along Merlin's side in the narrow bed.

"Mmm."

"You could roll a joint," Gwaine suggests.

"Can't," Merlin says. "My hands are still shaking."

Gwaine finds that weirdly endearing, and he rubs his fingers over the sharp line of Merlin's hip until Merlin lifts his head for another lazy kiss. After a glance at the clock that confirms they still have a while before anyone's likely to be home, Gwaine drags the sheets up over them both. Merlin's worrying his lower lip and Gwaine pinches his ribs. 

"What's up?"

"Mmm? Nothing. Just...should have used a condom, probably."

"Oh. Huh. Yeah. Sorry. Next time. Anyway, you know. _Virgin_."

Merlin lands a soft punch on Gwaine's thigh and says, decidedly smug, "Not anymore."

"Right," Gwaine agrees. "Not anymore."

Merlin drums his fingers on Gwaine's ribs and kisses along his jaw, soft sucking bites. Gwaine likes the idea of showering with Merlin. He remembers what it was like before, when Merlin showered at his house and Gwaine caught the scent of his own shower gel on Merlin's skin. Maybe he'll suggest they go out somewhere later, because he likes that even more, the idea that – however unlikely – someone might notice they smell the same now.

Wondering if that'll be pushing his luck, he asks, "Hey. Wanna shower? We have a _big_ shower."

Merlin laughs. "Right, and when someone comes home?"

Gwaine huffs. "Okay. Shelve that plan."

Merlin grins and kisses his jaw. "Rain check. We need to work on our timing. Talking of, I said I'd work from eight til close. Sucks."

"Can I come with you?" Gwaine asks.

"To the diner? Uh. Sure, okay." Merlin looks surprised but a little pleased too, and Gwaine grins at him when he says, "You totally earned a free slice of pie."

"Awesome," Gwaine says, kissing the top of Merlin's head.

Later, at the diner, Merlin presents Gwaine with a thick slice of blueberry pie, topped off with a mound of whipped cream. Merlin dips his finger into the cream and licks it clean before turning back to work. The gesture goes straight to Gwaine's cock and he shifts in his seat, liking the devilish grin Merlin shoots him.

Gwaine drove Merlin to work, so he takes him back home to get his car. His mom's car is on the drive though, and Gwaine sighs, his thoughts of inviting Merlin back inside dashed. Merlin's thoughts are apparently running along the same lines because he gives Gwaine a rueful smile and leans over to kiss him in the darkness of the truck. Gwaine can hardly bring himself to let Merlin go, dragging him back for one last kiss about half a dozen times.

"Enough," Merlin says eventually, pressing his palm to Gwaine's chest and pushing him back. "I'll see you at school tomorrow."

"Uh-huh," Gwaine says, leaning into the heat of Merlin's hand. "What are you doing after?"

"Working til eight," Merlin says, his fingers curling in slightly. He wets his lips – Christ, it's like he doesn't _want_ Gwaine to let him out the truck – and blurts, "Why don't you come over before school and give me a ride?"

"Took the words right out of my mouth," Gwaine admits. "I'll take you to work, make some drops, be back to run you home. Or out! We could go out."

Merlin gives him that familiar crooked grin. "We could stay in."

Gwaine groans, and this time it's Merlin that pulls him in for another kiss. Finally, Merlin says, "See ya later," and slips out of the truck and into his own car. He flashes his lights at Gwaine and waves as he drives away.

It's like a full ten minutes before Gwaine can do anything except sit in the truck and grin, ecstatic with the whole fucking _world_.

*

What with school, and Merlin working, and Gwaine training, they don't actually get to spend much time together for the whole week. It's like the universe is mocking him for wasting so much time. Because now he's got _everything_ right there at his fingertips, all they have time for are a few quick kisses in the morning when Gwaine picks Merlin up for school. Study hall, with Merlin _right there,_ is an exercise in restraint. Gwaine has never been one for restrain, and so he slouches in his seat, presses his leg against Merlin's, generally gets all up in his personal space. Merlin just shoots him a smile that says _you're not fooling me even a little, but that's okay, carry on_.

Thursday after school, Gwaine's mom mentions something about a new tennis club and he suddenly starts paying a lot more attention. By the time she's finished telling Gwaine about the place (and more importantly her plans to check it out _with Tony_ on Saturday), he's already sent Merlin a covert text message: _free house @ mine saturday. pls pls pls say you're not working?_

Merlin isn't working Saturday, as it goes, but the payoff is that he has to work until closing on Friday. Gwaine goes by the diner Friday evening, and it seems like blueberry pie and seductive glances might become a tradition. Gwaine could totally go for that. He has to leave before closing time to cut a few deals and Merlin actually blows him a kiss as he leaves. 

Saturday finally rolls around and Gwaine finds himself unaccountably nervous. At the last minute, he even changes the sheets on his bed. Then he feels like an asshole when he looks at the smooth, crisp sheets, and rumples them up a bit, trying to make it look like usual.

"Oh my god," he mutters to himself. "Get a fucking grip."

Merlin's been nothing but eager to kiss Gwaine through the week, and more, sliding his hand under the table in study hall to curl his fingers through Gwaine's. And Merlin has bitched more than once that he hates work, or school work, or pretty much anything that gets in the way of, quote, getting my hands on you again, _god_ , end quote. Still, Gwaine doesn't want to presume or anything, that seems criminally unclassy.

Merlin turns up around ten-thirty, and all Gwaine's worries about being pushy or presumptuous dissolve in an instant, because Merlin's on him as soon as Gwaine opens the door. Gwaine just barely manages to push the door shut behind Merlin, hooking an arm around his waist to pull him closer. They kiss for a while before Gwaine pulls back, tucks Merlin's hair behind his ears and says, "Wow. Hi."

"Hello."

"Good greeting style," Gwaine tells him. "I approve."

Merlin laughs and rubs a circle on the small of Gwaine's back. "Good to know."

"You want a drink, or something?" Gwaine offers.

"That would be great," Merlin says. "I, uh. Maybe overslept a little. Only had time to shower before I left."

Gwaine laughs and squeezes Merlin's hand as they go through to the kitchen. "They have these things called cell phones? You could have text me to say you'd be late."

"I'd rather steal your soda and get an extra half hour with you," Merlin says, like it's obvious, like it's _nothing_. 

Soda falls by the wayside for a while, because how can Gwaine _not_ kiss the mouth that said those words? When they finally part, Merlin has this gorgeous flush on his cheeks, and his lips look bee-stung. It's almost enough to draw Gwaine straight back in again. _Hosting skills_ , he reminds himself, and goes to get a couple of cans of soda from the fridge. By the time he turns back, Merlin is already skinning up on the kitchen table. Gwaine drops a kiss onto the top of his head because, really, does it get any better than this?

*

Apparently, it gets loads better.

They're in Gwaine's room with a CD Merlin burned for him months ago playing in the background. (Gwaine wasn't even aiming for brownie points with that one – it really did just happen to be in his stereo – but Merlin had grinned at him hugely, so he's not going to argue it.) They're squashed together on Gwaine's narrow bed, kissing lazily while the sun traces its way along the floor. 

This is just the best. _Merlin_ is the best. Just as Gwaine thinks that, Merlin proves him right with great style, his hand moving over Gwaine's ribs, skimming his hip before he presses his palm flat to the front of Gwaine's jeans. Gwaine's teeth close on Merlin's lip and he moans, rocking his hips forward, one clumsy jolt and then another. Merlin laughs, sounding very pleased with himself, and Gwaine can't help echoing it as he reaches for Merlin's t-shirt, tugging it up just enough to brush his knuckles over Merlin's stomach.

Merlin might be pale and he might be slender, but he is far from scrawny. Gwaine can see why Merlin made the team at his old school; he has a swimmer's body, all lithe, sleek muscles. When Merlin tries to jerk off his own shirt, it gets tangled up with his glasses and he kneels there, cussing creatively until Gwaine takes pity on him, draws his shirt back down and pulls the glasses from their precarious perch on the end of his nose.

"You look about five times more stoned without these," he laughs.

Merlin groans and gets his shirt off successfully this time. "I know, I know. They're my shield from the world."

"Whereas poor 20-20 vision me has to settle for wearing sunglasses indoors like a tool. Pity me, Merlin. Pity me."

Merlin laughs at him instead, tugs his shirt off, and says dryly, "My heart bleeds for you."

"I'm not hearing a whole lot of sincerity, Merlin," Gwaine reproaches gently.

"I'm crying on the inside," Merlin assures him.

"Uh-huh. Sure you – "

"Can I, uh – can I suck you off?"

Gwaine kind of freezes, looking at Merlin, the image of him distorted where they're pressed so close. "Um. _Yes_."

Merlin grins like he's actually relieved. "God. Good. I think about it a _lot_."

"You – oh, _shit_ , Merlin." There's nothing else to say to that, so Gwaine just kisses him again and again, until Merlin laughs and pushes at him.

"C'mon, move," Merlin tells him and Gwaine does, letting Merlin hustle him half upright so he's propped on his elbows, looking down at where Merlin has slid to kneel between his feet. And that is just – Gwaine's still got his jeans on, Merlin's half-dressed too, but it is still the hottest sight he has ever seen. _Ever_. Seriously. Porn has _nothing_ on Merlin. He rubs his fingers over Gwaine's thighs, pressing in just enough to push his legs wider. Then those quick fingers hook inside his belt, working quickly to undo it. 

They both scramble his jeans down and Gwaine kicks them away with one foot, freezing all over again when Merlin wraps his hand around Gwaine's dick, thumb rubbing at the underside in a way that almost makes his eyes roll. Merlin bites his lower lip, _licks_ it, god, is he trying to give Gwaine a heart attack?

He's being responsible, damn it, and he remembers what Merlin said last time, so before Merlin is quite close enough for Gwaine to feel his breath, he chokes out, "You gotta – Merlin, you gotta use a condom."

"They taste gross," Merlin complains. 

"Yeah, I know, but – wait, how do _you_ know?"

"Um. Practice," Merlin says, and then, a little defensively, "I told you I thought about it a lot."

Oh _Jesus_. Gwaine practically hurls a strip of rubbers at Merlin. "I'll buy you some flavored ones for next time. Jesus, I'll drizzle it in fucking fudge sauce, just – Merlin – "

"Okay. Okay, Jesus, hold still. You gotta tell me what to do."

Normally Gwaine would leap at such an offer, but he's out of his head, can only grab hold of Merlin's shoulder and grit out, "Put your mouth on me."

"Jesus, okay. Okay. Wow."

"Merlin – "

"Mouth, right, okay. Wow, this really does it for you, huh?" 

"Have you seen your lips?"

"Uh. Not in the same way you have, evidently."

Gwaine huffs a laugh, plucks Merlin's hand from the sheets and kisses it. "You've made me. Number one sexual fantasy since pretty much the day we met."

"Wow, number one, really? Dude, I don't think you should have told me that. That's a lot to live up to. I might get performance anxiety, or something."

"Oh, my god. I'm sure you'll do okay."

"Exactly! The reality of your number one sexual fantasy should not be _okay_."

Gwaine throws his arm over his face, shaking with laughter. "Dude. Just blow me."

Merlin snorts laughter against his hip then kisses the same spot, a wet flash of his tongue. Gwaine's hips twitch and Merlin makes an interested noise, nosing at Gwaine's inner thigh, biting into the tense muscle. 

"Oh my god," Gwaine says again, making it pleading.

Merlin looks up at him as if for guidance and takes the head of Gwaine's dick into his mouth. His nose wrinkles at the taste of the rubber but he keeps on like a champ, taking Gwaine a little deeper before sucking on him experimentally. Gwaine fights to keep his eyes open because hello, blowjob virgin, probably in need of more than the usual reassurance. But then again, maybe not. 

Merlin takes him in about halfway and then pulls back, coughing. Gwaine recognizes the flutter of surprise in his eyes, the sudden realization of exactly how it feels to have someone's dick in your mouth. After that, Merlin sucks him in again, wrapping his hand around what he can't fit in his mouth.

"Merlin, Jesus Christ," Gwaine pants, pushing himself up on his elbows so he can stare down at Merlin.

"Is that okay?" Merlin asks, still squeezing Gwaine, thumbing over the head of his cock. 

"Huh? What? Yeah," Gwaine nods. "Yeah, that's – shit, really good." Acting on instinct, he cups the back of Merlin's head and tries to pull him in. He immediately feels like a selfish asshole and lets go. When he tries to apologize though, Merlin cuts him off.

"I, uh – I think I like that."

"Yeah?"

"Uh-huh. Don't stop," Merlin tells him.

Gwaine nods, keeps a loose tangle of Merlin's hair in his fist and holds on. It's pretty fucking amazing to watch, to see Merlin getting more confident, figuring out how to take Gwaine deeper, keep him in his mouth for longer each time. He bobs his head, grunting at the occasional tug when Gwaine doesn't move his hand in time. 

"Holy _shit_ , Merlin..."

Merlin doesn't seem to feel the need to check if that was good or bad, just _sucks_ Gwaine in deep and holds him there, over and over, gasping breaths in between loud in the little room. It sounds wet and the heat of Merlin's mouth around him is incredible. And Merlin is – Jesus, Merlin is humping the side of the bed, is genuinely, undeniably getting off on this. Gwaine narrowly resists the urge to punch the air in victory. 

"You," he tells Merlin on a labored breath, "are amazing. Just fucking amazing."

Merlin pulls off rapidly, huffing. "You're not supposed to make me laugh, dumbass."

"Aw, fuck, Merlin, don't stop."

"You close already?"

"Uh-huh."

Merlin looks pleased with himself and goes to with a renewed vigor. After trying to take more than he should and pulling back a couple of times with another of those wide eyed, holy-shit-so-that's-what-that-feels-like looks, Merlin eases off on bobbing his head, going for sucking on the first couple of inches and jerking the rest.

"Oh Jesus, god damn," Gwaine pants. It feels like white fire spreading out from Merlin's mouth, burning up Gwaine's whole body, turning him inside out with pleasure. "Oh fuck, Merlin, fu-uh-uh – "

Merlin keeps working him while he comes, twisting his fist around Gwaine's cock like he's anxious to get every last drop of come out of him. Gwaine falls back onto the bed when he's done, staring up at the ceiling and just trying to fucking breathe right. Merlin crawls up over him, kisses him, pulls back when Gwaine can't help laughing. It's exhaustion and pleasure and being blindsided by a fucking _phenomenal_ orgasm, but Merlin looks briefly hurt. Gwaine soon catches Merlin's face between his hands and kisses the faint pout away.

"Hey, no. You're a fucking natural. Jesus, that was amazing. What do you want? You should know that pretty much _everything_ is on the table after that."

Merlin laughs, and even after all that, manages a faint flush as he pats Gwaine's abs and says, "I wanna come on you. Right here."

"That – oh, man. That can totally be arranged. C'mere, gorgeous."

Merlin's smile is bright and his mouth is very red. Gwaine sprawls underneath him, happy just to watch him get his pleasure.

*

They go out to the movies, to the pool, to dinner a few times. Really, not that much changes. Gwaine's favorite thing to do in the evenings is still pick Merlin up from work and then go smoke some weed, but now he gets to kiss Merlin when he does those things, gets to sling an arm around him at school and not give a crap what anyone thinks. (Merlin never seems to care, so why should he?)

One evening a couple of weeks in, Gwaine's waiting in what's become his accustomed spot outside the diner. Merlin gets out from his shift right on the dot of seven, which, now Gwaine thinks about it, is a recent development. Usually Merlin's the type who will stay late to clean up or do some kind of extra work out of the goodness of his heart. 

Now though, he's quick as he leaves the diner, hurrying over to Gwaine's truck and jumping inside.

"Hey, gorgeous."

"Hey," Merlin says, buckling his seatbelt and leaning over to kiss Gwaine. "I just need to go to the ATM."

"What for?"

"Some weed if you've got it."

"Dude, no. I can't make you pay me for pot."

"Well I can't just _take_ it, dumbass. You said you were saving that money for college. I can't _steal_ from your college fund."

"Merlin – " Gwaine starts to argue, but Merlin fixes him with a very pointed look, so he decides against continuing the debate, obediently dropping Merlin at an ATM instead.

Gwaine loves that Merlin's mom works nights. Really, really _loves_ it. He also loves that Merlin's room has a double bed. It was there when they moved in, according to Merlin. In reality, it's probably too big for the room, but it is the perfect size for the two of them, and Gwaine is determined to make good use of it this time around. 

They don't even stop to smoke, kissing each other on their way up the stairs. They're clumsy in their desire for each other, Merlin's bedroom door slamming back against the wall as they go through it. Merlin's got one hand fisted in Gwaine's hair, while the other is busy sliding down from his shoulder to his chest, over his stomach. Merlin's fingers hook just inside the belt of Gwaine's jeans and he tugs as he drops onto the edge of the bed, pulling Gwaine down with him.

They do eventually get horizontal in Merlin's big bed, but only to cuddle, all tangled up together. Merlin's heart is still pounding; Gwaine can feel it in his chest. Merlin flattens his hand over Gwaine's and laughs at nothing. His amusement is infection and Gwaine hides a smile at the base of Merlin's throat.

"Are you my boyfriend?" Merlin asks abruptly.

 _O...kay. Left field_.

"Uh. Well, I don't know what else you'd call it," Gwaine says.

"Just checking."

"You're so weird, Merlin," Gwaine tells him fondly.

"How is that weird to ask? We still do all the same stuff we've done since like, two weeks after we met."

Gwaine drums his fingers on Merlin's ribs and says, "Well, I guess you were my boyfriend then, too. We just weren't discussing it."

"Or doing it."

"Or that," Gwaine agrees, wrapping his arm around Merlin and teasing, "You're such a stoner."

"Says the pot to the kettle."

"Ha. Pot."

"Oh, right, _I'm_ the stoner."

"Shut up, dude, that was funny."

"Barely."

"Merlin! Okay, clearly, you're forgetting the cardinal rule of boyfriend-hood," Gwaine tells him, happiness bubbling in his chest. "Which is that you need to laugh at my crappy jokes."

"Okay," Merlin says. "But we're gonna need some kind of system, yeah? Like a universal punchline so I know when you've allegedly made a funny."

"You are a bad boyfriend."

"Lies. Who else is gonna let you pack a bong while they suck you off?"

"That was one time and we were in a hurry. Did you or did you not get first burn?"

Merlin thinks about it for a moment. "Forgiven."

Gwaine kisses Merlin's jaw, across his cheek to his mouth. "Good."

*

A couple of nights later, they're supposed to be going out bowling, but Merlin has to cry off at the last minute. A history quiz at short notice had left him less time than he'd expected to finish an essay.

"I'm so sorry," Merlin says, sounding mournful.

"It's okay, seriously," Gwaine promises. "Another time."

"You bet," Merlin says.

"Hey, you wanna study together instead?"

"Oh, you don't need to do that."

"I'm offering. I have this Spanish exam next week, anyway."

"Yeah, okay," Merlin says. "Only if you wanna, but it would be good to see you."

"Cool. I've got a couple of drops to make on my way over, probably be about an hour?"

"See you soon."

And while bowling is fun and Gwaine was looking forward to it, Gwaine enjoys the evening just as much anyway. Merlin gets really into his essay, muttering to himself about gender politics and whatever else he's working into his critical analysis of Macbeth. Gwaine mainly messes around with flash cards and crib sheets, trying to drill the necessary vocabulary into his head. 

They break a couple of hours in for Dr. Pepper, and Gwaine orders a pizza. It's the delivery guy Elena has a crush on and Gwaine has to text her, teasing. He shows Merlin her expletive-laden reply and Merlin laughs, leading Gwaine out to the deck where the last of the light is fading from the sky. Merlin turns on an outside light and they sit talking quietly while they eat. Gwaine reaches over to wipe a smear of tomato sauce off Merlin's lip, and Merlin kisses his fingers and then his mouth.

If Gwaine thought his Merlin-addiction was bad before, it's ten times worse now he can touch Merlin whenever he wants. He'd have thought it would make it easier. Like he'd be able to somehow store up those moments they're together, and that'd make the Merlin-less moments feel a little less like a pointless waste of his time. Nope. Now he knows how good it is - how good _they_ are – it's even harder to give a crap about anything else. He finds himself playing with his phone when they're apart, writing messages he usually persuades himself not to send. Some, he's saved as drafts for some point in the future when they'll sound less crazy. Because he can't imagine a future without Merlin, can't imagine _not_ having this. _Whatever it takes_ , he swears to himself.

"Hey," Merlin says, reaching over his laptop and touching his fingers to Gwaine's brow. "That's a really serious face."

"This is a really serious math assignment," Gwaine says.

Merlin smiles at him, not taken in at all. "Want me to look it over when you're done?"

"Please."

In reality, Gwaine's barely started his assignment, too lost in his thoughts. He scrambles to catch up, because he has plans for when they're done with homework. Said plans involve a joint, followed by the squashy couch in Merlin's lounge, and copious amounts of making out.

Which is exactly what happens. 

They're curled into each other, watching some terrible film or other, and it kind of comes from nowhere when Merlin says, "So, I think we should have sex. Actual sex."

And Gwaine knows what he means, of course he does. But his brain is just kind of spinning its wheels, so to buy some time, he says, "As opposed to all the fake sex we've been having?"

"Shut up, you know what I mean," Merlin says, flailing his way out of Gwaine's hold to look at him.

"Yeah," Gwaine admits. "Yeah, I do."

"So – "

"Uh. _Merlin_. Obviously."

Merlin grins and says, "Cool. I was thinking, Friday, mom's working, you could stay over."

"Sounds good," Gwaine says, picking up Merlin's hand and kissing his knuckles. "Really good."

Nervous? Who said anything about nervous?

*

Friday evening, Merlin's out of the front door before Gwaine's even parked the truck, which is weird.

Until Merlin leans in through the passenger window and says, "Hey. Hi. Um. My mom is still home. And she would very much like to meet you."

"Oh. Oh, wow," Gwaine says, undoing his seat belt. "Okay. Is she, uh. She's not gonna try and – I don't know, pray the gay away, is she?"

"No, dude! My mom's cool, I promise. She likes you already."

"From when she found me on the couch and I pretended to be asleep?"

"Did you? Ha. No. I – maybe talk about you a little."

Gwaine feels warmer at that, and he gets out of the truck. "Okay. Alright. Let's do this thing."

"Dude, seriously. My mom is the least scary person on the planet," Merlin promises.

"Okay, but what do I say to her?"

"I don't know. Just steer clear of 'I'm here to bone your kid' and you should be okay."

"Wow. Helpful," Gwaine says, honestly stunned because _surely_ Merlin knows him well enough to know that now, _I'm here to bone your kid_ , are pretty much the only words left in Gwaine's head.

True to Merlin's word, his mom is awesome. She hugs Gwaine and says she's so pleased to meet him. Even calls him sweetheart. She doesn't have long before she has to leave for work, but as she's going she gives Gwaine another hug, like she's genuinely pleased to have met him, pleased he's part of Merlin's life. It's kind of a revelation for Gwaine, whose own mom describes him pretty often as a pain in the ass. 

"Did you tell her I was like, an altar boy, or something?"

"What is up with your church fixation today? And of course not. I told her you were smart and funny and hot."

"You told your mom I was hot?"

"Duh. You _are_ hot, dumbass. I don't have a lot of secrets from my mom. Seriously. I psyched myself up for the big coming out talk, and she told me she'd known since I was like, twelve or something."

"Wow."

Gwaine can't imagine a coming out talk with his mom and stepdad. He can't imagine a world where they give enough of a crap to even take an interest. Thinking like that is putting him in a bad mood so Gwaine kisses Merlin and says, "I wish I'd known you back then."

Merlin cringes theatrically. "I don't. I was such a dork."

"How things change," Gwaine says dryly. 

"Hey! No, but I was the most painfully awkward kid. I would have developed this huge crush and gone totally non-verbal every time I laid eyes on you."

"I would have thought it was cute," Gwaine promises.

Merlin snorts. "Liar. Wanna smoke?"

Gwaine thinks about it, because cards on the table, he's pretty fucking nervous. Nervous that this will be what makes the scales fall from Merlin's eyes, makes him realize that whatever special thing he thinks he sees in Gwaine (whatever it is that makes his eyes go soft when he looks at Gwaine, whatever makes him want to stay up all night sharing his secrets with Gwaine) amounts to nothing more than a little bit of charm and a constant, low-level buzz.

"I kinda think I wanna be stone-cold sober the first time."

Merlin's eyes do the soft thing then, and Gwaine thinks, god, _why_? Why is it such a shock to Merlin? Why doesn't he get that Gwaine is always gonna fall so far short of what he thinks Merlin deserves, so of _course_ he's gonna do everything he can to even come close to that.

"You go ahead if you want to, though," Gwaine says, smiling at Merlin and trying to pass the moment off as nothing.

"No," Merlin says, and he curls his fingers under Gwaine's chin, pulling him into a kiss. "No, that's – I like that idea." 

Kissing Merlin is something he can do. They have gotten _really_ good at it, in fact. Gwaine's nervousness vanishes and yeah, yep, this is good. The next thing, they're in Merlin's room and Merlin is smiling at Gwaine, something sweet in the way he reaches out to take Gwaine's hand and pull him down so they're sitting on the bed together.

And oh god, okay, there's the nervousness, wow, back full force.

Merlin looks at him, says, "Hey. You okay?"

"Uh-huh. Sure. Of course."

Merlin's eyebrows creep upwards.

"That...was not convincing," Gwaine admits.

"Not really," Merlin agrees, leaning in to kiss the corner of Gwaine's mouth. "What's – "

"I don't – want to mess up."

Merlin looks like he's biting down on a smile, but his voice is very gentle as he says, "Pretty sure you won't. I – want to. Want _you_. A lot."

Gwaine shakes himself a little. Merlin _wants_ to give him this, and he is dicking around being _nervous_. They wrestle each other out of their clothes and that's better, the hot drag of skin on skin familiar enough that Gwaine forgets to worry about not being good enough and they just take their time. Merlin's kisses are the same as ever, hot and all-consuming, and then there's lube on Gwaine's fingers, and Merlin is arching under him.

"Okay?" Gwaine asks. Merlin nods quickly. They've come this far before. Merlin liked it then and he likes it now, shifting his hips restlessly and pulling at Gwaine's wrist to get the angle right.

Gwaine's...he's not _not_ nervous, because making this good for Merlin is the most important thing in the _world_. He's not the kind of nervous he was before though. It actually feels almost good, the tightening of anticipation in his chest, the clumsy edge to their kisses. If it wasn't for that edge, Gwaine thinks he could do this for _ages_. Merlin is hot inside, tight – _really_ tight, but they will cross that bridge when they come to it – but it's not even that, it's the way he sounds when Gwaine crooks his fingers or turns his hand.

It's Merlin who says he's ready, then insists, then bitches, and finally tosses a condom at Gwaine's head when he persists on holding out a few more minutes, three lube-slippy fingers pressing carefully into Merlin's ass.

"Okay," Gwaine says as he tears the condom wrapper open. "Okay, okay. Wow. Okay."

Merlin smiles at him, waits until Gwaine has the condom on to pull him down and kiss him. When he pulls away, he wrestles a pillow under his hips and splays his legs wide and Gwaine is the luckiest bastard on the planet, how did he _ever_ get this lucky?

Gwaine slicks up again and says, "Sure? Um. Ready?"

"Uh-huh," Merlin nods, not a shred of doubt in his face as he looks at Gwaine. And that's – a little bit terrifying. Everyone has doubts about Gwaine. Except, apparently, Merlin.

Gwaine squeezes Merlin's knee briefly and then sets his teeth in his lower lip and tries to push into Merlin's body. It's feels – god, _impossible_ at first, like there is no way it will ever fit and shit, how exactly does he say that without it sounding like some dumb brag? Merlin breathes out hard and relaxes and Gwaine slips in just an inch or so. Merlin sucks a breath back in straight away, his eyes suddenly wide open.

"Yes?" Gwaine ask. "No? Merlin, baby, talk to me – "

"Just – slow," Merlin requests, and Gwaine nods fervently because _yes_ , slow, _of course_ , slow. And not just because he is going to lose his shit in spectacular fashion if he tries for anything above _slow_.

Merlin breathes out again, more controlled this time, and he tilts his hips and Gwaine slides a little deeper without even meaning to.

"Ow, oh – " Merlin says and Gwaine freezes. "No, no. Not ow. Not ow."

"Merlin. You _said_ ow."

Merlin pulls Gwaine closer, lifts his chin for the ghost of a kiss. "I meant – something else. Something not ow."

"I – "

"Shh," Merlin insists and he tilts his hips again and Gwaine pushes in further, pulls back a little, and they both groan, so in sync they laugh at each other. A shaky, breathless kind of laughter but still. It feels good.

"You can do that again," Merlin says.

So Gwaine does. With Merlin's hands on him, he knows, just _knows_ when Merlin needs him to slow down, to stop, to kiss him. They build up a slow, steady rhythm and Merlin's cock, which had softened before, is hard again now, pressed up between them and Gwaine feels like he could cry for the tangible proof he's not making a total mess of this.

"Merlin, you – " He has no idea what to say. _You are the most perfect thing in the world. You feel fucking amazing. I don't want to ever be anywhere you aren't_.

Merlin touches his face, curls his fingers into Gwaine's hair and gives a gentle tug. "That," Merlin says, and then wets his lips, his panting breath soon drying them again. "That feels really – good. God. Yeah. Definitely good, _oh_."

Gwaine tries to replicate the exact movement that caused that little _oh_ and after a few false starts he finds it. Merlin's short nails bite into Gwaine's hips, urging him on, and Gwaine can feel heat flaming through his whole body. Merlin cries out something wordless and mangled and his body tightens around Gwaine's dick like a fist. Gwaine just freezes while Merlin – _god_ – whines, what looks like every muscle in his body locking down tight as he comes. It feels _unreal_ , more than Gwaine ever imagined.

" _God_ ," Merlin says in a small voice, his fingers curling around the back of Gwaine's neck. Gwaine drops his head and kisses Merlin's throat. Merlin sort of flexes under him and makes a noise of surprised interest.

"What?" Gwaine asks.

"That – move a little," Merlin requests.

Gwaine does it, careful, his arms trembling to hold himself up.

" _Oh_ ," Merlin says, his lashes fluttering. "That – god that feels _good_."

"Yeah?"

"Uh-huh," Merlin says, nodding, his fingers digging into Gwaine's side. Gwaine moves carefully now, slow and intent while Merlin _mmm_ s and _oh-oh_ s under him, shivering with aftershocks.

He gets in maybe a half dozen thrusts before it's too much. The heat of Merlin's body and the tenderness in his eyes as he looks at Gwaine, the way his fingers play through Gwaine's hair. All too much. Gwaine drops his head as he fills the condom, breathing against Merlin's hairline.

After he has pulled out and dealt with the condom, Merlin gloms onto him straight away, curling himself around Gwaine and kissing him until he feels breathless all over again.

"Hey. Hey. Okay?" Gwaine asks, concerned. 

Merlin nods, his fingers doodling a pattern onto Gwaine's ribs. "I just – I'm really glad I did that with you and not some random guy."

Gwaine doesn't know what to say to that. He kisses Merlin again so they don't have to talk.

*

Later, they'll talk.

They'll talk about everything and nothing, until they have no secrets left at all. Gwaine will continue to think up new and interesting ways for them to get high. Merlin will introduce Gwaine to his best friend Will next time he's in town for a visit, and they will hit it off so well that Merlin will claim to be ever so slightly concerned. (Ridiculous and they'll all know it. Gwaine's adoration for Merlin will never be subtle.)

After a few months they'll start arguing about nothing and it will take them a couple of weeks to realize they're both freaking out about college. They'll name their first choice schools on a count of three and feel like even bigger assholes when it's not exactly the same place (because there is no way on god's green earth that Gwaine is getting into MIT) it's close enough that their panic will vanish as soon as they've finally identified its source. They'll get higher than they've ever been in his life on the day of their graduation from high school. They'll dance together at the party after, and Gwaine will think there's no one in the world more in love than them.

That night, in the midst of a session of sixty-nining that's drifted into talking about school and sex and the road trip across three states to college that they're planning, Gwaine will say those six little words: "I seriously fucking love you, dude."

He'll be stroking Merlin's ass at the time, kissing his thigh where it tickles. Merlin will be trying to subtly work a pube out from between his teeth, but it'll be perfect anyway.


End file.
